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Butterflies and Hurricanes
Chapter six. . . Trust Me
~o~o~o~
Walking into the sullen cave of a class, I noticed how loud it was. I peered around and noticed that my teacher was nowhere to be found.
I took advantage of this and settled into a seat near the door for a quick escape when the time came. I relaxed and noticed how everyone was in a chatty frenzy. The guys around me were laughing like Neanderthals and the girls texted rapidly on their phones.
I sat and leaned over my backpack. As I lay there slumped in my seat with my head on my large backpack and my hair sprawled all around me, I let my mind wander about. I closed my eyes and let the drone of my class mates tune me out from reality.
It would be just Alex and me. We’d be holding hands and just walking in the snow. Or, no wait I change my mind. We'd be in a field of clover. With wildflowers up to our knees. Far away from all the hate of the world and Mother. Far away from demons or anything bad. Far away. We could just be walking together in the sunlit field. There could be a hurricane at the edge and we wouldn't notice. It would rip up houses and throw trees. Alex and I would be so oblivious in love.
Walking, together in a clover field full of butterflies and flowers.
But it was impossible. Alex and I were never meant to be.
Then in an instant, the hurricane would become so insane, large, and monstrous. It would growl, roar, and tear its way through the field. Digging up flowers and ripping butterflies into shreds. I’d look up. The sky would be blue and cloudless. There would be no hurricane. Only fluttering shreds of butterflies. I'd look down and see blood and I'd realize something.
I was the hurricane.
I woke up with a start and realized I'd been drooling. My class had become silent albeit the drone of boys whispering amongst themselves next to me. I became self-conscious and wiped the drool off my blushing face. Then I looked over at them and noticed that they weren't chatting about a drooly faced girl.
I followed their gaze and noticed that most everyone was looking in the same direction. They were all staring at substitute teacher.
He was tall and odd and so far received an abnormal greeting that was different from normally what subs received. He had everyone's attention.
I squinted at him. Why was he special? His shoulder length hair was sun bleached brown. He had gruff features that were slightly handsome. Not exactly movie star quality, but heck, who was I to judge. He was haggard and had probably seen better days. His eyes were a glittering and tired brown when he glanced over his shoulder. The silence was hushed when he turned. He glanced quickly up at the clock on the wall. And turned back hurried.
I was curious to see what had happened while I dozed off, so I tapped the girl in front of me.
"Hey, Naomi, who is this guy?" Naomi twirled around in her seat and looked at me through her glasses with blue eyes.
"Huh?" She said. I realized that this was probably the first time I had talked to her in my two weeks and I was sure she was in nearly every one of my classes.
"Oh, yeah this guy." she said the shock of my soft voice wearing off. "He just walked in without a word. Mrs. Mère hasn't been in yet . . . I don't know; it’s not like her to be missing school. This is the first time we've had a sub. Normally we'd be halfway into some long article with her right?" I tried to chuckle at her joke with her, but she was right to be suspicious. Something was defiantly weird.
I looked back up at the guy and then once around the class again. Most of them were looking down at last night’s homework or reading. Only a few stared back at the suspicious man who seemed to be looking over notes at Mrs. Mère's desk. I chalked up the courage to see what was going on.
Getting up as quietly as possible, I strode across the room and stood in front of the desk. He hadn't noticed me yet. I glanced back. All eyes were on me. It was like being on stage or something. I looked back down at him. He was looking down at a sheet of paper with elaborate blue lettering scrawled all over it. I squinted down at the writing and noticed something odd. Though the writing was obviously Mrs. Mère's, it was not English. Or Spanish. It was not like French, German, Russian, Chinese, or like any other kind of writing I had ever seen. I ripped my eyes from the odd writing and cleared my throat.
He looked up, frustrated and mashed his eyes together at me. A gruff voice came from his mouth and startled me and probably all the kids behind me.
"What, what do you bloody want"- He stopped. His thick Scottish accent dropped as well as the paper in his hands and his eyes widened.
"Um . . ." Lost for words, I tried to rack my brain for my reason to have bugged him. There was some odd ambient-like quality in his eyes. Something far away and somehow real feeling. So I put instinct behind and just B-Sed it.
"Are you our substitute, sir?" He nodded. No, I'm a creeper.
"Um normally we would start by going over last night's homework . . . Did Mrs. Mère leave a plan for you?" What was I saying? What did I care exactly? No, I just thought I would waltz in, have your teacher scribble something odd on a peace of paper, and sit in her chair for a class. He nodded.
He spoke again. "What's your name miss?" He asked me. His thick accent floated through my ears.
"U-Um . . ." I stuttered taken aback by his accent again. "I'm Jenna Mortemour . . ." His eyes widened and he wrenched his self from his seat and made a screech type noise as he rose. I think everyone jumped behind me because their chairs made screeches as well. I jumped.
"You're her! I was right going into this class eh!" His rough tone startled me. I took a step back. How did he know me?!
Once again, the bell was my savior. My classmates, relieved that their class consisted of sitting, jumped and raucously left. I turned to leave as well but realized that I was being held back. I looked at my shoulder and saw his large hand.
"Not so fast missy. We have to talk." I didn't turn around. I closed my eyes and wrenched free of his grasp.
"Why? You haven't even said your name yet. Is this about some assignment that Mrs. Mère had for me? Or a detention . . . " I tried to keep myself from acting on instinct and turning to the strange man to punch him in the face.
"No it’s about your PT meeting." he said casually sarcastic. I turned to meet his gaze. He became surly again. "No I'm not your bloody substitute teacher!" He exclaimed. It seemed he changed his demeanor at a moments notice.
"I'm Bausch and I'm here," he said looking back at the paper and then to me, "To talk about you’re "Mother."
He nearly spit the word "mother". My trust for him suddenly grew and I felt my heart race.
"How do you know me . . . Bausch?" I asked. I had become oblivious to all that was around me. He wasn't. The drone of the students became louder as a new class had begun to load itself into the classroom.
"We must go somewhere more quiet . . . Do you trust me so far Jenna?" He asked hesitantly.
"Um, I guess so . . . Though I don't know you all too well . . . That's odd isn't it?" He looked back up at me nervously from the paper. "Why is that?"
"All will be revealed in due time I'm afraid. Gather your things. We must leave. Soon." Without another word, Bausch left the room. I rushed to get my things and walked out of the class. He was nowhere to be seen. I took a chance and went right. He was there patiently waiting.
"Are you coming?" He called. I nodded and he turned. His strides were wide and I rushed to follow him almost eagerly.
Just who exactly was this man?
 Madame Joli Rouge · Tue Dec 15, 2009 @ 11:18pm · 0 Comments |
