Blue Butterfly

Red: sacrifice, danger, courage

Rabbit: rebirth, change, spring

NEDA

Before you read our story, I want you to pretend.

I want you to pretend that, after the story ends, nothing else happens. I would like you to imagine that the happy ending stays happy, that the characters stay content and in love, and that they skip through tulip fields every Tuesday, holding hands and knitting sweaters in the high grass. That is what I would like you to believe, and if you read something that suggests otherwise, I would like you to ignore it to the best of your ability and keep pretending.

Got it? Good. Let's begin.

GRACE

The first thing I learned about Neda was that she really, really liked rabbits.

She joined our school a couple months after Christmas. She was wearing a green jacket, and underneath it was a shirt covered with little red rabbits. But before I noticed that I noticed her hair. It was brown, but it was also kind of yellow, like honey. Yeah, that was it. Honey brown. It was short too, and she wore glasses like me.

I didn't talk to her much on the first day. She sat with us at lunch, but she was very quiet and picked at her food. It was awkward with her there, since we can't talk about the things we usually do when there's someone new at the table. It's just weird, because they probably won't contribute, and then it feels like we're leaving them out.

Finally, Roselyn asked what everyone's favorite food was. She's a big fan of icebreakers, even if there's only one new person and everyone else knows each other.

When it was Neda's turn, she put down her fork and said, "Strawberries."

"Ohh, I love strawberries too!" I said. I smiled at her, and she smiled back, then quickly looked down at her food again. She poked her pasta with her fork and didn't speak another word.

At first I wondered if I'd done something wrong. Did she not like me? Did I speak too loudly? Had I said something mildly offensive? But soon I realized that Neda was just shy. She was habitually withdrawn, but not enough to be considered impolite. She greeted teachers, lent lunch money when anyone needed it, and smiled at you if you recognized each other in the hallway. She always wore those bunny shirts, too, especially the red one. When I asked her about it, she said that she had three rabbits at home. Her eyes brightened when you asked her about her rabbits. I asked a lot after that.

NEDA

When I first came to my new school, I couldn't decide whether I hated or loved it. It was hard to compare it to anything, really, seeing as I'd been homeschooled my entire life. It was just all so much; so much extra work to do at home, so many expectations, so much competition, so much pressure to act and look perfect. That part, I know I hated.

There was another part, though. The part I loved. I saw her in my first class. She was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, with black hair like raven feathers, and the most beautiful smile that showed all her teeth, like pearls. She smiled at me when I found the bravery to sit with her at lunch, and my stomach did a little flip. And guess what? She liked strawberries too.

Though, to be fair, I didn't love it right then. I hated it, beacuse it was new, and I don't like new things. I don't like them at all--and, when you go to a new school, everything is terrifyingly new.

New teachers and new curriculums and new friends are hard enough. New feelings are worse. I wasn't supposed to like girls. I was supposed to like boys, and I did like boys--I still do like boys, but Grace wasn't a boy, and I couldn't help but like Grace too.

I told my online friend, River, about it. River was gay, so I thought they would be able to offer advice. But all they said was that my feelings were probably nothing--results of being overstimulated from such a new environment.

River was wrong.

One day, in English, I was assigned a group project with Grace and another girl from our lunch table. Her name was Elaine, and she was very nice and loved to talk. Because Grace was so smart and because Elaine said everything that came into her head, I was able to sit and watch without really contributing anything.

I know that sounds like I was trying to take credit for their work, but I wasn't. Let me tell you how I felt, so you can understand:

I never had friends before going to school. My mother was my teacher, and my siblings were years younger than me, so there was nobody to talk to. Beacuse I never had friends, people my age became something bizarrely alien. Something rare. Something uncomfortable. Suddenly, had to talk to them. Look at them. I had to let them look at me, and I had to think while doing it. How was I supposed to think and talk during that group project when I felt like I was going to cry and throw up all at once because of how new it all was? I was scared. I couldn't help it.

While Grace and Elaine started analysing the newspaper article we were given, I watched Grace. She was wearing an orange shirt that showed her shoulders, and I admired how nice she looked. Skinny, but not bony. Pretty, so pretty. I wished I was pretty like her. I also looked at her hands; her fingers were longer than mine, but they were slim, like an elf's hands. I wondered if they were soft, and if--

No. I couldn't think that. Strange, strange, I don't like strange.

"Neda?" Grace said, looking at me. "What do you think?"

Panic seized my chest. Sirens and alarms went off in my head, and for a moment I couldn't breathe.

Talk. Think.

"Um." I cleared my throat and tilted the article towards me. I hadn't read it properly. "I--I think there's lots of emotive language... right there." I pointed my finger to the text. My hand was shaking.

Elaine nodded slowly and looked at Grace. I knew she thought I was stupid. Emotive language? Of course there was emotive language.

I just couldn't say anything else.