The Butterfly Ethic

 Prologue

Martin finds the object that will change his life forever

“The closing prayer was said. It is finished.” I waited four years to say those words. I quickly made my way through the crowd and left the room. I was going to walk home satisfied this time. I briskly strolled by several people. It was still uncertain whether or not I would see any of them for a long time, but I did know that if I hadn’t already, I would impact their lives for the better. It was all a part of my master plan, but I needed to act fast to catch the opportunity. I rushed down the dark stairwell and into the lobby. My heart was ready to burst. The window of opportunity was slowly closing

After saying a final goodbye to a friend, I ran to the van. In spite of the conversations around me about upcoming movies, I sat pensively for the entire ride, reflecting on my secret battle. I fought that monster for four long years, and finally rode out triumphant. It was a shame night had already fallen; a sunset to walk off into was the only thing missing from this picture. I had always looked forward to this day with hope, and a trickle of anxiety. On those sleepless summer nights, I would plan this day. I often asked myself: What am I going to do when this is over? Now I knew.

5 years earlier (2003)

“Look Out!”[1] my comrade cried out, but it was too late to do any good. I was hit. I jumped back in recoil as a searing pain shot up my arm. I lifted the sleeve of my shirt to inspect the affected area. It was solid red, with a nice texture from the dodgeball. Those guys hit hard.

“Aww, you stole my kill again!” someone from the opposing team shouted.

“You’re out, Martin!” Ezechiel shouted at me. He coached me as though I were an idiot who didn’t know the first thing about dodgeball.

“I know, I know.” I jeered. Seizing the moment, he threw another dodgeball at the back of my head. It was a terrible waste of ammunition if you ask me, but to him, it was worth it. I sat off to the side in the dodgeball graveyard. Ezechiel laughed with his half-brothers and discussed his latest dodgeball hounding. The others listened with excitement like they had no short-term memory

I didn’t really care much that I was out; dodgeball wasn’t really my game. And apart from that, I was too deep in thought to care. I had an amazing dream the night before, and I was trying to remember it. I think it was something about the past. Yes! That was it! I spent the remainder of the lunch break thinking about this. I was reluctant to go to class as we had music next period and I very much wanted to remain with my thoughts. My music teacher, Zelma Whigfield, abruptly illustrated that that was not an option as she strode toward me and asked why I wasn’t going to class.

“I, uh… I have to return this ball to Sister Sophia.” I told her. I beckoned toward the abandoned dodgeball.

She eyed me suspiciously. “Hurry up, and be back in five minutes!” she snapped. Despite being a nice person overall, Zelma wasn’t the type you wanted to be on the wrong side of. She was the type who would suspend you in five seconds flat and not lose any sleep over it. In fact, she even had her own printing of our discipline sheets just so she could do that. It had been said that she was once a fairly pleasant teacher, but all the antagonism the students exemplified transformed her into a much less lenient person. Add that to the fact that she was married to my uncle, and you have one of the most frightening teachers in school.

On the way to Sister Sophia’s classroom, I knocked on every door I ran by, just for fun. Then I turned the corner to find a classroom that didn’t have a door to knock on. This was my destination. I didn't enter just yet, for they were in the middle of a lesson. I merely stood outside and listened to the teacher call on someone to test thier knowledge.

“Allie. Can you name them?” The teacher asked one of her students. I didn’t know what it was, but something in her voice made me abhor it.

“The tribes that attacked Rome were, Vandals, Chaldeans-“ Allie trailed off.

What an idiot, I thought. ''During the fourth and fifth century, Rome was attacked by the Vandals, Franks, Gaul, Angles, and the Huns. Everyone Knows That!''

<p style="text-align:center">“Can I assist you with anything?” Sophia asked.

<p style="text-align:center">“I’m uhh… returning your ball.” I stammered. Slowly, everyone’s gaze turned right to me. Somewhere in the class someone whispered: “Freya, your brother’s dumb.”

<p style="text-align:center">“Well, come on in.” The intimidating teacher beckoned.

<p style="text-align:center">''Walk in. Walk out. Walk in. Walk out, I thought, ''though I couldn’t help but enmesh myself in the classroom. It was definitely nicer than most of the other classrooms I’ve been in (with the obvious exception of Charlotte’s classroom). On the wall was a row of several animal classification posters and on the end of the row was a massive map of the world. On a table below sat quite a few beakers of water with salt crystals growing from strands of pink yarn suspended by pencils.

<p style="text-align:center">Typical fifth grade classroom. I quickly regained my senses and noticed the attention focused on me. Shaking off the awkwardness, I handed the teacher her ball and walked out. I then realized that I had exceeded my time limit and dashed to music class with dread. Luckily, Charlotte was in a good mood today and only sent me to the Principal’s office to call my mother to tell her that I’ve been bad, which was almost an everyday thing for me. In fact, it almost became a hobby between me and my fellow “bad boys” to see if we could top each other’s bizarre reasons to call our parents. Currently, however, the record belonged to Joseph Fradin and his incident with the Daedalus Fellowship.