Disclaimer: Wow!  I don’t even need this thing anymore!  This is an original!  Still, even though I credit them and it should be obvious, the poetry selections aren’t mine, but Robert Frost’s and William Wordsworth’s.

Author notes:  I was in a pretty philosophical nature-loving mood when I wrote this…for some reason, I felt like reading Emerson and Thoreau.  And I do not usually enjoy reading Emerson.  Anyhow, please read this thoughtfully and leave a review when you finish it…this is my first try at writing an original story instead of a pure fanfic, and I’m not sure how to go about writing it, really!  So I need criticism!  Okay, that’s about all…I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! ^_^

The Butterfly’s Lesson

I sighed to myself as I left my house.  My best friend was going to be gone for the weekend on a college tour.  Before leaving, she caught me and extracted a promise to check in on her little brother while she was gone.  He was staying with her grandmother, but she was just over ninety, and nearly blind.  Plus, Jennifer was worried her brother would be bored with nobody to play with, and I was in the neighborhood, and it would only be for a week, so it wouldn’t reallllly be a problem and she’s be sooooo grateful….

Sigh.  I’m such a pushover.  When she gives me those pleading puppy-dog eyes, I just can’t…arrgh!  Great.  Now here I am walking over to spend time with an eight-year old.  Did I mention my psychology final exam is tomorrow?

Riiiiing!  Riiiiing!   I waited for a few minutes.  Riiiiiiing.   Riiiiing.  The door opens a crack.

“Whaddya want?”  I peered inside, trying to find out where the voice is coming from.  Odd…. I don’t see anyone.

“Hey, stupid!  Down here!”  I adjusted my glasses and looked down.  Oh.  There he is.    Oh well…I put on my friendliest “I-Love-Spending-Time-With-Children!” smile for him.

“Heya Jason!  Remember me?”  The kid stared at me.

“No.”  Ouch. That hurt, kid.  That hurt.

“Jennifer’s friend?  Um…I come to your house every weekday…remember…?” 

“Not really,” Jason paused for a moment as his eyes lit up. “Unless you’re that guy who has that really loud, stupid-sounding laugh?” 

“Hah!  No, you’re probably thinking of someone else!”  Jason shook his head determinedly.

“No wait, I’m sure of it…. you ARE the freak with the stupid laugh!”  I felt a pained smile inch over my face.

“Oh good, you remember me!  Jennifer was worried you were getting lonely…do you want some company?” 

“No.”

“You sure?” Look at me, kid. Look at my smile.  Can’t you tell this is the smile of a man who knows his best friend will kill him if she finds out he didn’t spend time with you? 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Tough luck.  Put on your shoes, we’re going to the park.”  He stared at me as I fixed my gaze on him.  Our stare down lasted for at least three minutes before he broke off.

“’Kay.  Stay here, guy-with-a-stupid-laugh!”  Twitch.  Twitch twitch.

“Um…I have a name, you know…” Jason returned wearing his shoes.

“Grandma says hi, and that you can come over and play whenever you want.  Oh, and you can bring any of your little friends too.”

“Um…how old does your grandmother think I am?” Jason ignored my question.

“So you’re taking me to the park?  Sounds boring.” 

“Look, there’s lots of fun stuff in the park…a slide, dogs, birds, other kids…” Jason snorted.

“At home I’ve got this new X-Box, and the new Xtreme DOA3 Volleyball, and it’s so awesome, you can play ten characters and the moves-” I pointedly ignored him as we arrived at our destination.

“Well, here we are!” Jason didn’t bother to respond as we stood there for a moment.  I began to notice just how hot it was.  And empty.  No kids, no dog-walkers, no birds – complete and dead silence.

“This place sucks.” 

“Pessimism does not become a nine-year old, Jason.”  Jason stared at me blankly.

“Huh?”  I shook my head and sat on the grass.

“Never mind…just go and play or something, okay?  I’ve got to study…”

I opened my book.  Hrm.  Robert Frost.  I scanned the passage carefully, grateful for the lack of noise.

-My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.-

Beep!  Bee-beep Zaaaap! Pizu-pizuu Zap!

Glancing over, I saw Jason crouched on the concrete, a Gameboy in hand.  Grunting, I stood and walked over until my shadow loomed over him.  Jason’s face was lit with unnatural colors, and he was breathing rapidly, fixated on the images that flickered across the screen.  Reaching down, I hit the ‘off’ switch and took the Gameboy.

“Hey!”  I glanced over at Jason.

“You can play on that thing at home.  Do something you can only do at the park.”

“Like what?”  I motioned to the trees and the grass I was sitting on.

“Appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds you.”

“Bo-o-o-ring.”  I ignored Jason and flipped the page to a new selection.  A ladybug flew onto my shoulder as I read.  I let it rest.  I had to study!  Checking the title, I saw it was a poem by William Wordworth. 

-Up! up! my Friend, and quit your books;
Or surely you'll grow double:
Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks;
Why all this toil and trouble?
The sun above the mountain's head,
A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
His first sweet evening yellow.
Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
Come, hear the woodland linnet,
How sweet his music! on my life,
There's more of wisdom in it. -

Stomp! Stomp! Stamp-stomp!

Shutting my book, I looked for the source of the disturbance.  I found Jason gleefully squatting on the side of the road, scanning the asphalt for ants.  When he found one, he stepped on it.

“Jason!”  He looked up.

“Yeah?”

“Get out of the street before a car hits you.”

“Nobody’s gonna hit me.”

“People are careless.”  He muttered under his breath and shuffled over to the grass next to me, sitting with a loud “Hoooh!”  I scanned the poem once more.  Several minutes go by.

I looked up to see what Jason was doing.  He was intent on something in the air above him, watching it with wide eyes.  Oh.  A butterfly.  Western Tiger Swallowtail.  Heh.  Big name for such a little beauty.  Jason and I watch the butterfly float along the wind for a while, both of us quiet.  He’s not such a bad kid, really.  I remember coming to this park as a kid and watching the butterflies for hours.  Where are those days now?  Sighing, I returned to the passage.

-Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:--
We murder to dissect.-

Checking Jason again, I saw he had frozen in place.  The butterfly drifted closer, and Jason moved on a sudden impulse and reached out at the air. 

CLAP!

I watched as he rubbed pieces of butterfly wings off on his jeans and looked around for another victim.

“Jason.”  He looked over, the sun gleaming from his glasses.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you do that?”  He frowned.

“Do what?”

“The butterfly.  That.” I pointed at his jeans.  Jason shrugged.

“Dunno.  Felt like it.”

“A lot of people like butterflies, you know.”

“They’re stupid.  It’s just a bug.”

“Oh.  Having a good time?”

“Yeah, sorta.  Killing these stupid bugs reminds me of this old arcade game with lousy graphics, and you shot this huge alien-” I motioned for him to be quiet.

“Jason… if I asked if you wanted to go home, would you say yes?”  I sighed.  Somehow, I can’t bring myself to make any sarcastic remarks. 

“Yeah.  DBZ is on right now.”

“All right…lets go.”  I walked with him to the house.  Odd…I feel tired, weary.  Almost sad, for some reason.  Odd.

When we arrived, Jason took off his shoes.  Then he opened the door, walked inside, and shut it.  A few moments later, I heard electronic gibberish upstairs, though his windows were shut.  I had the feeling they had always been closed, and no matter now many walks in the park and butterflies, the windows to that room would remain shut, concealing Jason and his technology.  I said my good-bye and left.

I paused at my street, and continued on.  Reaching the park, I sat in the grass again, and watched the butterflies.  I’d learned a lesson on psychology today… if I could only understand it.

-One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
Than all the sages can.-