The Butterfly

Emily Rhoades
5th hour College Prep
October 2, 2009
The Butterfly

Six year old Tom ran across the playground and grabbed hold of the nearest swing. Jumping on and pushing off from the ground, spiteful thoughts consumed his mind. I hate Benny he thought. He got to be line leader today. I wanted to be line leader.
Feeling a tickling sensation near his shoulder, he reached up to brush away the annoyance and instead felt the silken wings of a butterfly resting on his shoulder. Gently scooping the insect into his small hands, Tom couldn’t believe how colorful it was! All thoughts of disgust at Benny’s line leader position were gone as he stared at the bright yellow butterfly with black spots on the wings.
“Those look like blueberry stains,” Tom said.
“I’m Alfred by the way,” said a voice from below.
“Aaah!” Tom shouted, scrambling from the swing and searching frantically below for the source of the voice.
“NO! Down here silly,” the voice reprimanded. Tom looked down, around and over his shoulder, but he saw no one.
“In your hand,” said the voice, now bored. Tom turned his gaze to his palm in disbelief. The butterfly didn’t look any different….
“Now,” the butterfly began again. “This matter of you and the young boy named Benny. I think that you should forgive him.”
Tom stretched his arms as far away from himself as possible. He was sure that this was just his friend Kyle trying to play a trick on him.
“Forgiveness is the best way to go. You’ll feel better, Benny will feel better…” Alfred droned on. Tom, still unsure of what to do, ran to the edge of the playground and placed Alfred on a hidden, leafy bush. He ran away, frightened, afraid that someone would find out. They’ll make fun of me he thought. They’ll call me Butterfly Boy. Forgetting all about Alfred’s advice, he joined Kyle on the monkey bars and spent the rest of the engaging in normal kindergarten activities such as eating crayons, picking his nose, and coloring outside the lines.
The following day during snack time, Tom was walking back to his chair with a glass of orange juice when Kyle playfully stuck out his foot and tripped him. Limbs flailing in all directions, he lost hold of the juice and it splashed right onto the pretty red shirt of his favorite girl in class, Molly.
“Oh no!” Molly began to cry. “This is the new shirt my grandma just bought me!” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry Molly…”, Tom tried to apologize but she was already running to tell their teacher.
“I hate you Tommy!” she shouted. Tom sat down in his seat, belittled. The rest of the day, what Molly said made him so sad. ‘I hate you Tommy’ sounded so similar to “I hate Benny’: what he had been thinking only the day before.
After school, Tom ran immediatly to the hidden bush where he had left Alfred not long ago, but the elusive yellow butterfly was nowhere to be found. Searching high and low, Tom pawed the leaves of the bush, but still no Alfred. In the distance he could faintly hear someone calling out… “Tommmmy!” He kept on searching. “Tommmy!” Now he could hear footsteps and swishing pant legs.
“Tommy!” The voice was right next to him, pulling on his shirt. Tom turned around. It was Molly. “Tommy, I’ve been calling your name but you didn’t answer.”
“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I was looking for something.”
“Oh,” she paused. “Well I just wanted to tell you Tommy, that I forgive you spilling juice on me and I’m sorry I was so mean.” Tommy smiled.
“Thanks Molly,” he said, giving her a hug. They stared at each other for a moment.
“So...,” Molly said. “You wanna come and play with me? My mom makes great cookies!”
“Sure!” Tommy said beaming. “But can we invite Benny to play us too?”
“Of course,” Molly said laughing. They began to walk away. After a few minutes, Molly asked, “Tommy, what were you looking for over there anyway?”
“Nothing,” he said, smiling. “I figured it out anyway!”