The Butterfly Effect

The first bell rings and bodies pour into the hallways like a collection of marbles set free on a slanted plane. Few heads I recognize; they all stand there huddled in a group around our math class. Voices seek answers to curious questions. Someone stands in the middle, the storyteller.

I'm finally close enough to hear anything that I couldn’t confuse as murmurs. “Did you see who she was?”

I pace over to Izzy and them, my notebook clutched against my body.

He shakes his head. They all crowded Xavier, “what happened?”

They all gawk at Xavier. He faced away.

“Tell her the story.”

“I was walking home, I took a shortcut through an alley when four guys cornered me; they were all drunk. Three of them had a broken bottle and one of them cornered me with a knife to my neck. Out of nowhere, this little girl comes out, I don’t know how, she didn’t even touch them, but they flew to the ground,” my eyes widened, “then one of them ran to her, but she made water come up from the ground and he slipped on it. Two guys tried to sneak up on her and she threw them into the streets with nothing but air into the street. When she was close enough she threw fire at the one with the knife, and he ran away. I looked at her, well we looked at each other, and then she just ran away. She was too fast; when I was out of the alley, she was gone. Like she disappeared.” His voice drooped at the end. “I know it sounds stupid, but it’s true.”

He picked up his head; there in crimson was the cut on his cheek. My eyes awaken more in horror.

“Did you see what she looked like?” The words escape my mouth; they tremble.

“Not really, I just saw she had golden eyes. The hood of the cape had a shadow on her face, so I couldn’t see anything, except her eyes. You should’ve see them, they were fiery hazel, like molten gold, but the moonlight made them twinkle a little bit, like stars. And she had a black cape, with a maroon butterfly on one of the corners.” Relief holds me loosely.

“Whoa.”

Whispers came about the hallway, mostly relating to Xavier’s story.

“A witch?”

He shook his head, “No, nothing Harry Potter like.”

“Do you think you’ll ever see her again?”

He shrugged and we started walking to Econ. “I want to, I mean, this little girl, maybe smaller than Autumn, she saved my life. I need to at least thank her.” His eyes lit up.

I stand here awkwardly, hoping my worry isn’t painted onto my face. He hadn’t seen me, that should be a plus, but it didn’t feel like that to me. It feels more like a fail, I’d left myself vulnerable, again, not only to those pathetic excuses for men, but to him. What if he had seen me, or seen something of me that’d lead him to knowing it was me? I can’t go back to the past.

“She’s like a superhero!”

A superhero? Me? No, that sounds far too comical. I'm nothing like Batman or Superman, or even Wonder Woman. I just happened to be at the wrong place at the right moment. Nothing to it. Superhero’s, even anti-heroes like superman, batman, and spider man, it seems too obvious that they’d be a hero of some sort. Like a part of them thrives for it. Not me though. I'm a nerd, a loner, and I'm a freak. I'm not trying to get a place in the world, I'm trying to stay hidden, to stay invisible. Hero’s, they all become famous, even in their public appearances, I wouldn’t be able to handle even that, even knowing that I have a mask hiding my true self. A part of me would still cower, inside me.

I sat in class staring outside. That cape, who knew that would keep me safe? I pulled out my sketchbook, drawing the little hero standing at the end of the alley facing away with a gust of wind sending ripples through the ebony cape and illuminating the maroon butterfly. He leaned over.

“That looks exactly like her. Did you see her?”

I shake my head quickly.

“Oh…”

I sighed and mentally slapped myself; did that make it too obvious?

My phone went off, *is that you everyone’s talking about?*

I stared at the message,* …*

She replied quickly, I didn’t even have a chance to put the phone back into my pocket, *butterfly cape, golden eyes, that IS you!*

She already found my identity, I shuddered; I did sound like a superhero. Ew. * Please don’t tell.*

*I’ve kept your secret quiet all these years and you’re scared I’ll tell? I won’t tell. But wow, you’re a hero.*

That word ricocheted in my head. Hero. I was no hero; I was just a freak of nature. * Please don’t call me that.*

The bell rings and I walk over to my locker, *What? A hero? But you are Autumn, you SAVED him. That makes you a hero.*

I rolled my eyes and changed notebooks, *call it what you want, but please, not hero, or superhero, or heroine. Nothing like that.*

I walked over to math, ew! *Whatever you say then. What do you want to be called?*

I think for a minute, *I don’t know, whatever name you can come up with, please, nothing
superhero-y.* I looked up and ran right into Xavier. I tread back quickly, “s-s-sorry,” and I ran off—even though my class was the opposite direction. Did he see the text?

I took the long way to math, which involved me running the last thirty seconds. In looking for a desk, Xavier cleared his things off the one next to him then looked at me. I smiled on the inside. I take that seat and lay my head on the desk. It was throbbing with the overwhelming night yesterday. At least I have the privacy of another ego.

“You okay?”

His voice full of concern caught me off guard; I nod. He had always been so cold, so dead of emotion to me. Could there be something existing such as a heart in between his ribs? Maybe? I turned towards him, our eyes locked. His were a cooling blue with hazel and green mixed edges.

“Ms. Winchester and Mr. Roux, are you done making googley eyes?” I turned and blushed. What is it with teachers at this school addressing us by our last names? Were there too many with similar names the only way to differentiate us would be by our last names? What if our last names were too similar, what
then?

A note landed on my desk, SORRY.

I raise my eyes at him, -Why?-

I'M ALWAYS SO MEAN TO YOU, I DON’T MEAN IT, YOU JUST REMIND ME OF A FRIEND I HAD—AND I GOT YOU IN TROUBLE.

I shook my head, -understandable, and don’t worry about it, it was my fault too.-

I stare at the teacher; he was around his early forties maybe. His hair was tousles cocoa curls and he had green eyes, about the shade of Adelyne’s. I looked around; every girl looked at him with dreamy eyes, all except Adelyne and I. Isn’t it too Hollywood for the students to fall in love with their teachers? He was probably married anyways.

COME HANG OUT WITH ME TODAY? MEET ME BY THE RED TREE IN THE CAFETERIA?

I turned to him and nodded. I think I saw him smile?

I held my math and econ book in my hands as I walked to the red tree, the only red tree on campus that permanently stayed red. He saw me and met me half way.

“So we have a million classes together, I want to get to know you,” he held his hand out in my my direction, “We never really introduced ourselves, I'm Xavier.”

I take the handshake, but my hand is light, small, and timid compared to his warm, strong, and somehow inviting grasp. “Autumn,” my dorky laugh escaped my lips. My eyes opened wide and I clamped my mouth shut.

“Did you just—”

“Shhh, don’t speak of it.”

He smiled and extended his hands towards me.

I stare blankly at his hand, “What?”

“You’re books; I’ll carry them for you.”

“No you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Something familiarly warm flickered inside me, a smile paints itself on my canvas.

We start making our way to the front gates of the campus, “So, tell me about yourself Autumn,” we walked very close, my shoulder occasionally rubs against his forearm, and when I’m on a higher step, my shoulder reaches his elbow.

I looked up to him, “Like what?”

“Your…favorite colour? I don’t know.” I laughed at his shyness.

“Red.”

My phone goes off; I stared at the name on the screen: Izzy. I see you… and Xavier, with a winking face. I searched, but couldn’t find her anywhere. I mentally roll my eyes, what is she trying to say? That there’s something between Xavier and I? No way, we barely started talking, and that wouldn’t happen, end of story. I ignore the message and smile back at him. He was already looking at me.

“Mine too.”

“Okay, what’s your favorite animal?”

“Turtles.”

I scrunched up my face, “Ew.”

“You don’t like turtles?! Who doesn’t like turtles?”

I raised my hand, “when I was twelve, on my birthday, my mom got me a turtle; it bit my nose.”

He laughed hard. “Wow and what’s yours?”

“I don’t have a favorite; I like all animals,” I whispered the next part, “except turtles.”

“Why the whisper? Are you scared they’ll come attack you?”

I shook my head, “no.”

We stopped at a bakery, “This is my favorite place to come every day after school, sometimes the rest will come, but usually it’ll just be me.”

“Don’t you get lonely?”

“Nah, my mom runs this place.”

“Oh.”

The bell jingled, giving me a warm feeling. The bakery was very large, but comfortable, the smell of
cinnamon and chocolate floated above out heads.

“Hi mom! He shouted over the counter, a woman came out, looking oddly familiar.

“Hey there darling, who’s your friend.”

“This is Autumn.” I waved.

“Hi there sweetie, you know, you remind me of a little girl I knew a few years back.”
I smiled. Is it odd that it’s the same story for me? Well minus the little girl part.

“Well you guys have fun.”

I smiled at her.

“You two look so much alike,” I chimed.

“You’re so not the first person to tell me that.”

“It’s true.”

We grabbed a little booth and sat down. “What do you want? Everything’s on the house.”

I smiled at the smile in his voice, “Just some cookies and a hot chocolate.”

“Hm.”

Worry poured into my blood and showed on my voice, “Hm? Why the hm?”

“Because that’s what I always get.”

“Oh?”

He nodded.

“Have you been stalking me?”

I was appalled; stalk him? Why would I waste my time doing that?

“I'm playing around.”

“Oh.”

He stared at me inventively. “Is there something wrong with me?” I tried to hide the crack in my voice.

“No, you just—never mind.”

“No, tell me. Please?”

“You just remind me of a friend I used to know. You’re so much like her, but—I don’t know, I guess I thought I’d see her again. It sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I have the same thing. He was my best friend, and he lived three houses away from mine.
I haven’t seen him since I was eleven—a week before my twelfth birthday actually.”

The seconds of silence were eerie; they were the ominous background music in a movie scene.

He looked at me stunned, “is it you? Raine?”

“Xavier? Little Xavier that used to put worms on my pillow?”

“Oh my God it is you!”

We embraced him, an odd hug because of the enormous size difference, I only reached up to his heart,
which I could hear race in my ear. I want to cry.

My heart plummeted when I realized the situation. “I can’ believe—you—you left. Why did you leave!?” I pulled back quickly. I grabbed my books.

“No, let me explain Raine, please!”

But I’d already left and was running off into the forest.

I dropped my books and my knees felt weak. I fell on my knees and palms. All these years, almost four years exactly. He left without saying goodbye; he didn’t even come to my birthday party. He never missed one of my birthdays, ever. Hot tears streaked down my cheeks in frustration. He was my best friend for Christ’s sake! Everything that happened when we were little, everything we shared, did they mean anything to him? Was I just the obnoxious little girl with the fantasy that the boy next door was her best friend? Was I a joke to him? Was everything between us a lie?

He was the only one outside of our family who knew about my powers, whether he’d forgotten or not, how can someone be so heartless and cruel?

How could someone do that? How does a heart exist like that? Since I moved in, had he known it was me? Why would you hide something like that? it’s not