Originally Posted by LydiaJ

Butterfly

She thought about homework as she opened her locker. She only had 9(nine) minutes until the bell rang for math class, and she hadnt(don't forget the apostrophe) really understood the last problem the teacher assigned. She sighed and she(it's ok, but you could omit this) wrenched the old locker door open. She hardly had time to look up to the high shelf when her books came tumbling down. She crouched down to pick them up, and stumbled in doing so. She sat on the floor amidst math books and English binders, loose leaf paper and random doodlings(doodles) made in class.

He couldnt help but stare at this curious girl. If looks could kill, half the other people staring at her would be dead, at least. She turned her gaze at him, but he didnt look away. Her stubborn chin, her button nose, her flushed cheeks in spite of her pale skin and her black hair to contrast.(I might be reading this wrong, but I don't think this is a complete sentence. Also, you might want to cut down on the "her"s. -We know they are all her features.) He walked up to her and helped her with her books. He knew her, he had seen her in class. She was always staring straight at the teacher, but her eyes were blank, and her mind somewhere else.

She looked up. It was him. The guy in class. At lunch and after school, he was the jock, the king, the MAN. In class he was the kid who did well silently, but whose eyes were always on his desk, where a drawing or a story was being born. "Hey, thanks.(comma, not period)" she said pretty(omit) quietly. She didnt like that he had the upper hand. At anytime he could start laughing at her, or notice how huge she looked bent over like this. He was the popular one, people would believe him if he said something mean. She kept her eyes down at her papers, and shoved them into her locker.

He didnt know why he waited as she put her things in her locker. He heard his friends call him. He didnt know why but right before leaving this curious girl, he slipped one of his drawings in her backpack. And he didnt know why as he left, that her slightly defiant black eyes danced into his mind.

She turned around, but he was gone, so she didnt think much of it. Soon she was in math class where she took out all her books. A piece of paper drifted off, and she made a grab to catch it. She examined the paper and saw a sketch of a cocoon. Underneath the drawing was scrawled in an untidy handwriting:
"Just because you cant see the butter fly(one word) within, doesnt mean it isnt there."
Then, in another colour, fresher than the first:
"I never liked butterflies anyway, they flutter and never settle. Everyone notices a butterfly, and its beauty is only exterior, boring and fake. But a cocoon is a mystery to be discovered, a cocoon chooses its spot carefully, and doesnt move until its ready to. And one day, if you take care of the cocoon, maybe then you get to see what exactly is inside."
She couldnt help but smile at the second message, which was adressed from "K." to "J.".

He made sure he sat not too far from her, he wanted to see if she liked it. He wanted her to know he could see she was scared, and it was ok, because he was scared too. There was so much that he wanted to tell her... but he hoped this was a start. If she needed him to take the steps, he would. Because he could see she was special, he knew she was meant for him. So as he saw her smile, he knew she understood. Maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.