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Ever since he was young, Arthur had lived with an innate understanding of how things worked. He organized information into neat categories, much like the operating systems he was known for teaching. Everything from weather conditions to the dark circles under his students’ eyes were data. He collected it, examined it, and acted accordingly. Some called it a compassionate disposition - he simply thought of it as a byproduct of his brain’s inner workings. His coworkers had been confused the last time he’d tried to explain the difference, so he’d stopped attempting to explain it and simply settled quietly into its rhythms. The mindset had never failed him until last year, when the new science teacher had arrived.
She had arrived with a flurry of activity, going only by the letter Q, or Ms. Q as her students called her. She was around his age, somewhere in her mid-twenties, and always wore brightly colored clothes with a silver pin shaped like a butterfly. Her hair was full and curly, bouncing wildly after her as she rushed down the hallways. Though he had never observed her teaching methods, he’d heard her mentioned many times by his students, usually when they were in the depths of Microsoft Access. The whispers were normally along the lines of “Ms. Q could probably make this more interesting” or “why can’t she teach every class?” Arthur took no offense from these statements, only a growing sense of curiosity. He had a strange desire to get to know her better, but he had no idea how to initiate that.
The bell pulled him from his revelry. It was still early in the morning, several hours before his class, but there were things he could work on. He’d tried to print some materials in the main office the previous day with no success. Perhaps the printer had revived today and caught up. He slipped into the hallway, smiling and nodding to the various students. He noticed Hayden’s new t-shirt, indicating that he’d finally followed his encouragement and joined the school’s soccer league. Arthur tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned around, grinning.
“You were right! Coach said I have great endurance.”
Arthur smiled. “That’s great to hear! You should email me the game dates once they’re posted.”
Hayden groaned in fake horror. “You’re gonna embarrass me, old man.”
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll lose my voice from cheering you on and class will be cancelled the next day.”
Hayden grinned. “That’s if you can limp up the bleachers.”
Arthur cracked his back dramatically, winking at him. “We’ll see.”
The boy grinned, slipping past him. Arthur glanced over in time to see Christian slip a small bottle of 5 hour energy in his pocket.
“Late night?” he asked.
Christian gave him a knowing look and nodded. “The game glitched and I lost my progress, so I stayed up late trying to get it back.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Do you want me to take a look at the laptop after school?”
“Sure.”
Christian continued down the hallway and Arthur continued walking, his heart heavy. The boy was hurting badly from the divorce, but was too self-conscious to speak freely about it. As a result, he’d made a kind of code to check in. They both knew that references to “gaming” referred vaguely to his parents’ arguments, and the offer for repair was an offer to discuss the situation in more detail later. They usually discussed it while doing updates on the school computers.
His stomach dropped as he saw that Sophia was wearing an oversized sweatshirt again. She caught his gaze and her face brightened, though her smile was strained.
“Hey.”
“Hello.”
She shifted her backpack to her other shoulder.
“Do you want to eat lunch in the classroom again?” he asked. “It gets awfully quiet in there.”
She nodded quickly. “I’ll see you then.”
Arthur smiled wearily, hoping she’d open up again later. He was doing his best to get her to see the school counselor and nurse about the cutting.
He continued down the hallway and was almost trampled by Ms. Q. She was carrying a tower of boxes, which were swaying slightly.
“Sorry!” she called out, desperately trying to stabilize the boxes. Arthur caught the topmost ones as they fell.
“Here, let me help - it’s my fault anyway.”
Ms. Q gave him a dazzling smile and led him to her classroom, her earrings swaying with her every move. She set the boxes down on her desk and Arthur followed suit.
“Thank you so much,” she smiled.
Arthur nodded and moved to leave, but his curiosity got the better of him as she opened the first box. Maybe it could provide him with a clue to her behavior. He stumbled back in shock as Ms. Q produced a glass frame displaying a dead tarantula.
“Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, oblivious to his near brush with heart failure.
“Ah, um, well - it’s certainly unique . . .” he trailed off.
She examined it closely. “I find it fascinating!”
Arthur nodded, his eyes focused on the ceiling.
“Oh, I think you’ll like this one! It’s called a Blue Morpho butterfly,” she said.
Arthur tentatively dropped his eyes to the glass frame in her hands. He saw with relief that it merely looked like a moth. It was brown, with detailed patterns on its wings, but certainly not blue. He opened his mouth to say as much before thinking better of it. Ms. Q seemed to understand his confusion, because she reversed the frame to show the other side of its wings. Arthur observed it, fascinated. The inside of its wings were a vibrant blue, completely distinct from the dull brown patterns of the outside. Ms. Q beamed as if she’d designed it herself, her skin virtually glowing.
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
He wondered later if he’d been talking about the butterfly or her. Perhaps both.