"Heh. You're an idiot…Open your eyes, Salazar."
A chorus of distant bells tolled their melancholic melodies. Within the confines of an ancient mansion, the stately Grandfather clock stood tall, its intricate hands marking the passage of time─rhythmically reverberating off the cold, stone walls. I gazed out the arched windows, eyes tracing the clouds.
Suspension.
I stepped onto nothing but the firmaments.
Where beneath, a flock of butterflies flew─an extravaganza of six trillion and one of them.
And, you can't breathe in the stratosphere.
"Please…don't push yourself too hard," I mimicked the liar. "Also, I shouldn't have opened the window when I could have looked down."
Twitch, and twitch, somehow, I knew, her fingertips ran through the school's prickly problem child's right hand.
I drew my hand back as my eyes opened─and we stared at each other.
Head tilting in confused motion, her pencil struck her lower lips.
"Forfeit thy right hand already!" I heard her scream internally.
Behold, Primrose Avery was disappointed over what nuance I feign off as a person of wryly regarded magnitude. I could have been minding my own sleep. No one would have objected─but she decided to be an alarm clock.
Primrose and I, seat neighbors at the backmost row, didn't blink for six or seven seconds.
"Mika…" she called, breaking the silence. "Do you like dozing off that much?"
"I'm sorry," I apologized, instantly, yes, blowing the lit matchstick.
Yet, she was unfazed.
"Sensei looks so appalled," Primrose ushered, huffing a bated breath.
Ears perked, and the eyes blinked twice: Mikhail may not have been able to believe the atmosphere. Hmm, like, what was up mouthing "sensei" in our setting, and it didn't sound cringe at all? I suppose it had something to do with her gyaru fashion…Uh, what is up with this Filipino chick?! Alright, said the Filipino teenage warhead who narrates in English.
Anyway, who was the one who said, "a problem child should be more of a problem child?"
"Primrose Avery and Mikhail Salazar, talking at the back," and so, the "sensei" in question raised her flag. "I know you find my lectures boring, but Primrose…Can I have your attention, please?"
Illuminated by neon white entropies was Miss Ash, holding her Literature textbook and a marker. Jotted at the whiteboard was the classic The Little Prince: it seems we're leaning on a lesson on childhood, adulthood, and the wall in between them. Or it may have been a topic on aviation history, and it's only the reference…Wait, it's literature class.
As a side note, many times, I can relate all the girls I've known to the rose.
Miss Ash would be your tired teacher, wincing at the slightest discomfort inside her classroom, which is why you'd wonder why she's a homeroom teacher. She's better off doing office work, confined in a cell somewhere. Okay…no, no, her reactive butterflies took a hostile stance, looking towards their nemesis.
"Mika…Shut up, mmkay?" And so, I was silenced.
I have no voice in our classroom and thus, I slept.
"Mika…" As though worried, Primrose sighed in implied boredom.
Everything blacked out as I let my head down. I closed my ears, perked my senses, and watched her frown. Tick, tock, the wasteful nod to frustration─and it has only been less than two days. Perhaps we agreed on the jokish bumble, but that has only been the term I pushed unto her.
And now that I'm satisfying the problem child within, the fun has been abruptly killed.
Worth the chuckle─breaking a sudden rebellion to pierce her hopes.
I suppose when it happens, you'd stealthily go around trying to pull the ungodly right hand unto thy chest.
Sever.
You're not given a break until homeroom begins.
"Oh my god, Primrose, you just cracked the case in less than ten minutes!" Out of nowhere, waves of congratulatory claps would reverberate from the classroom walls.
How that elderly voice cracked from our cipher class, everyone else celebrated her triumph.
You wake up in science class.
She aced her studies, being the eager student meant to be adorn by everyone else.
Meanwhile, I had to swipe my eyes each time I had to be awakened.
When her slender hands creeped down a sublime engagement, again, I'd take it upon myself to stop her.
Rinse, and repeat.
You wake up during science class.
You wake up during defense class─and boy, we won't talk about the sparring sessions.
You wake up during math class.
While they were sentenced in unfathomable chaos theory, I dug my head down a soft cushion I took from the teacher's couch. "Mika…Help, please?" And there she went, shaking the foul child who had no interest whatsoever in the double-rod pendulum.
Now, I have to look at these numbers.
My mind began to swirl, awaiting its catastrophic demise.
And yet, I helped her─becoming her unconditional instrument to success.
"Oh! It's the butterfly effect," she whispered as she jotted down her answer.
And so, it happened once more.
"That's right, Miss Primrose, it's the butterfly effect!" Sour turned excited, our prickly math teacher rejoiced. "How did you get it so fast?!"
Our teacher jumped the gun on our newcomer, and she was surprised.
Almost stuttering when she expressed her gratitude.
As it stands, our classmates were also impressed, but no, there wasn't room for a celebration like earlier. It's not as grand as solving a cipher of the Cicada 3301 caliber…which I've lovingly addressed as a waste of time. Nonetheless, the lass known as Primrose Avery displayed her prowess once more.
Butterfly effect, huh…Coincidence? I think not.
I think…Yeah, I must have been bitter.
I helped her…but yes, I'd give her credit for the fast realization knowing she's a transfer student at our devious academia with its unlikely set of subjects.
Notwithstanding all that, I have to painstakingly listen to our teacher's romanticized view of time travel and whatnot─the shifting timeline, conspiracies, the untimely shenanigans.
Wry.
Your problem child won't like to listen, so please hush down for a moment.
"You're just bitter," Kitty opened. "Your problem's simple, Mika…You just have to give her what she wants."
You wake up during break time, and no one's in class.
This is Kitty Castella, who owns black butterflies. She said we'll go to the vending machine at the left wing─and so there we were, drinking cinnamon coffee. Our usual hangout spot, a territory we marked down. And of course, we get to drink for free, the faculty left unaware we overran the software.
Snarky to the brim of her lips, she uttered, "Share her the same nightmare we all had."