Chasing Butterflies Chapter 33: Calculated Risk (Patreon)

Thursday found Olivia sitting in Mr. McCullough’s Advanced Algebra class once more.The class was practically empty as she sat down, since her Geography class was right next door. Today, she appreciated the moment to herself. It meant more time to prepare for the conversation to come.

I have to tell him today. I have to turn him down.

She’d spent the last few days agonizing over Bryce’s request for tutoring. That whole time, she’d continued to answer his questions and go over homework with him in class whenever time allowed. He hadn’t pushed the issue or brought it up again. But felt as though she could only put it off so much further

Refusing was the last thing she wanted, if she was being completely honest with herself. But it was the right thing to do. What she should do.

That didn’t mean it felt good.

Olivia stretched in her seat, eyes locked on the door as it clicked open and shut. More students streamed through in ones and twos until the scattered conversations throughout the room melded together into an indistinct buzz. Her fingers idly twirled her pencil with ever-increasing speed as the seconds ticked on by.

Eventually, Bryce did make his appearance at the threshold. But it wasn’t what she expected at all.

The football player wasn’t clad in his usual letterman or even a normal shirt. Instead, he wore a sky blue button-up and navy blue slacks, both pressed and sharp. Above one of the shirt’s pockets was pinned a rectangle of colorful stripes and blocks, while the other bore a simple rectangular nametag with “ROGERS” engraved in white letters. To top it all off, a narrow navy hat sat perched atop his freshly trimmed chestnut hair, its profile reminiscent of the paper ones the servers at Ricky’s sometimes wore.

Is that… a uniform? A military uniform?

Bryce swept the hat off his head as he stepped inside, tucking it into his belt. Olivia continued to stare as he headed for his desk. It was hard not to. The picture was just so bizarre.

“What’s up? Got something on my face?” He grinned.

“What? No, sorry. Just surprised is all.” Olivia responded distractedly.

“Oh, right. I’m so used to you being a genius that I forget you’re still a freshman.” Bryce chuckled as he lowered himself into his seat. “The JROTC here wears uniforms every Thursday. You’ll see em’ walking all around campus, if you haven’t already.”

She had actually noticed a few similarly dressed students in passing throughout the day. It had struck her as odd, but she hadn’t given it much thought past that. And it certainly hadn’t prepared her for Bryce to be among their number.

“Then… you’re also…?”

“Nah, I just like to mess with people.” He struggled to stay straight-faced as she gave him a hard look. “Kidding, kidding. Yeah. Not planning on joining or anything. I’d rather go to college for football and business. But with my grades, never hurts to have a backup plan, y’know?”

Olivia felt a pang of guilt at the mention of grades. Bryce being involved in what was essentially a high school military recruitment program certainly caught her off guard, of course. But that didn’t mean it was necessarily a bad thing. He was a high schooler—a high school boy, at that. This was exactly the kind of thing kids like him gravitated towards. And while her feelings toward the military weren’t particularly strong one way or another, she’d ended up becoming quite good friends with a number of older veterans in her old life. So it wasn’t like she was completely set against it.

Besides, it sounds like he’s got his head on straight about what he’s doing with it. Even if that is a bit more pessimistic of a take than I would hope.

Bryce continued getting settled, slinging his backpack onto the ground and retrieving his notebook. She took a deep breath. Getting caught off-guard was no excuse. If she waited any longer, class would start and she’d be left putting off the conversation for another day. There was no time like the present.

“Listen. Bryce…”

The guy glanced up curiously. One look at her face and his expression faltered. He straightened, scratching his chin a bit sheepishly.

“Shit. That’s a no, then?”

She gave him an apologetic look and nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I… can’t.”

Bryce sighed and leaned back in his chair. “No worries. It was worth a shot, right? Though I’m totally gonna keep bugging you during class. You’re not getting out of that one.”

His words were lighthearted, but it was clear that he was disappointed. Still, it was clear he was making an effort to make her not feel bad, and that only made Olivia feel worse.

…Dangit. Why do you have to remind me so much of George?

Olivia scrubbed her face with both hands and fell silent, thinking. Then she made another impulsive decision.

“Fine.”

The football player blinked. “Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“But you just said—”

“I know.” She sighed with exasperation. “I know what I said. But I don’t know if I’ll be able to live with myself if I don’t.”

…And I really won't be able to live with myself if this screws up the future. Honestly. Why am I doing this?

It was definitely shortsighted. This couldn’t be a good idea. But at the same time, Olivia couldn't help it. Ignoring an opportunity to help someone, especially someone directly asking her for it, went against her very nature. There was no way she'd be able to keep that up for twenty years without missing a beat. Heck, she already had failed on that front at least a few times, albeit in hopefully inconsequential ways. Maybe this would be another.

Bryce ran his fingers through his chestnut curls. “That… seems a bit dramatic. This is math tutoring, not giving me a blood transfusion.”

“Hey, do you want the tutoring or not?”

“Absolutely.” The junior answered immediately. “One-hundred percent. Just confused is all. It’s really not life or death. Just academic life and death.”

Olivia rubbed at her temples. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

I have to believe that it won't ripple out too badly. I have to. Every time I fail to act on something like this, I feel like I lose a part of myself… But that’s half the point, isn’t it?

Olivia wasn’t the same as she had been all those years ago. That much was becoming abundantly clear. That’s why she was putting on this act. But assuming she succeeded in emulating her old self well enough, would she be able to pull herself back out? Would she be able to change in just the same ways that she had all those years ago, bit by bit, little by little 

Retracing her own steps was one thing, but navigating her arc of personal growth accurately was an even taller ask that she hardly knew where to start with. Even if she did manage to keep it up, to accurately act like her old high school and even college self… Would she be able to keep her own sense of identity intact afterwards? Or would living a lie for so long do irreparable damage to all the hard-earned development she’d worked on for so many years? Would she truly end up as the same person she had been before getting sent back in time?

Absolutely not. The trauma alone had changed me permanently. But if I make it there, maybe I can start being myself again…?

It was a difficult question to answer, a thought exercise full of more pitfalls than solid ground. She would have felt a lot better about all of this if she could say with complete certainty that Bryce would pass the class without her interference. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. If they’d interacted at all last time around, then it was brief enough that she didn’t remember it at all.

“...I have a condition though,” Olivia barreled forward before she could second guess her decision any further. “We keep this a secret. I’m not starting a business or looking for more people to tutor. I’m tutoring you and only you. I don’t think people would be banging down my door either way, but still.”

Bryce nodded solemnly. “Deal. My lips are sealed.”

“All right. Then… I guess we’re doing this.” Olivia sighed.

Their conversation was interrupted as the start-of-period bell rang. Mr. McCullough rose, ambling toward the whiteboard for yet another riveting lecture. For once, Olivia actually did use her notebook for its intended purpose—kind of. Rather than copying down the Algebra teacher’s own scrawled equations, she began devising a lesson plan and practice problems for her upcoming tutoring sessions. If she was going to do this, she would do it right.

This is the last deviation I’m allowing myself for a long time. I’ve let myself slide with too many things already. If I’m going to make it through this, I’ll need to accept that I can’t help everyone, even if I want to.

She really hoped she wasn’t lying to herself.

***

The rest of the week raced by, as did the next. Olivia put herself on a strict regimen of enforced silence to counteract the amount of socialization she’d been doing as of late. Hopefully it would serve to recoup some of the ground she’d lost trying to copy her old self. Whether or not it was the best solution, she couldn’t say. But recent events made her feel like she had to try something.

Before long, Friday rolled around, and with it her freshman year’s homecoming game. The school day saw the campus completely decked out in red and white streamers, balloons, and decorations to celebrate the momentous occasion. Plenty of students coordinated their wardrobes to match, including much of the band, especially seniors.

Olivia herself wore a red shirt, but that was the extent of her participation. She rather doubted that old her would have done more than that. Perhaps during the later years she could get a little more adventurous, but for now? This would suffice.

She settled into her desk for first period English, already unzipping her backpack. But before she could even pull out her drawing notebook, Trisha approached her desk.

“Happy homecoming!” The girl grinned broadly. She was an absolute riot of red and white. Facepaint, beaded necklaces, streamers, the whole nine yards. It was as though the campus itself had been concentrated into one singular person as an arbiter of school spirit. The whole outfit was topped off by an oversized red RHS shirt, its sleeves and hem cut into long decorative strips that curled and swished with every movement. Embroidered racoon paws and footballs decorated its entire surface.

Right. Cheerleader. Of course she’ll be all into this.

Trisha looked Olivia up and down. “Where’s your school spirit?”

Olivia gestured to herself. “I’m wearing red, aren’t I?”

“Sure, but that’s like, the minimum!” Trisha pouted. “Here.”

The blonde whipped off one of the countless beaded necklaces hung around her own neck and draped it over Olivia’s head. She gave a nod of approval. “There. At least it’s something.”

Olivia fingered the necklace. “Thank you…?”

That’s kind of nice of her. But did she really come over just to be the spirit police?

As though in answer, Trisha’s smile brightened. “Sure! Oh, this is also for you.”

The blonde reached into her backpack—which had also undergone a complete transformation befitting the occasion—and drew out a package. It was wide and flat, about the size of a textbook and wrapped in metallic red paper. A puffy bow sat neatly atop the box.

Olivia eyed it curiously. “What is it?”

“A present, duh!” Trisha winked. “Payback for the drawing.”

That took her aback a bit. She hadn’t asked for or expected anything in return. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, a tiny favor that didn’t have any lasting consequences.

She reflexively shook her head, pulling back slightly as though the box contained a live snake. “You don’t have to—”

The cheerleader held up a hand to cut her off. “Nope! I don’t wanna hear another word. Well, unless it’s ‘thanks’. You’re taking it, that’s that.”

Trisha pressed the box into her hands, forcing Olivia to accept it. The package was lighter than expected—not an actual book, then. So what was it?

“Oh, and don’t open it here, ‘kay? You gotta wait till you get home at least.” The blonde’s head rose as the door to the classroom opened. Her eyes sparkled at a figure out of Olivia’s view. “Allie! Happy homecoming!”

With that, Trisha whirled away just as quickly as she’d arrived. Olivia was left at her desk, holding the neat little package like it was a live bomb.

…I’m being overdramatic. It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, this means we’re even, right? So any ripple from the drawing should end here. Right here.

She stared at the box for a moment longer before tucking it away in her backpack. The pristine bow was crushed somewhat by the rest of the bag’s contents, which made her wonder how Trisha had managed to avoid that same outcome. It didn’t matter. It was just wrapping, anyway.

Whatever the case, looks like I have it now. So might as well open it, right?

The cheerleader had told her to wait until getting home. But Olivia wasn’t certain if she could. Maybe she’d just find a quiet place out of the way during lunch instead.

The next few periods dragged on even slower than usual. Even another math test and Mr. Ambrose’s lecture failed to distract her from the shiny red box in her backpack. When the lunch bell finally rang, Olivia practically sprinted for one of the less traveled areas of campus and settled in an out-of-the-way corner. She pulled the box out, examining its now considerably less pristine wrapping one more time. Then, she tore it open.

The surface of a clean white box revealed itself beneath—because of course the girl had color coordinated that as well. Shaking her head in disbelief, Olivia lifted the lid off and peered inside, then froze.

This is…

A shimmer of deep maroon fabric greeted her. Not just any maroon fabric, though. Fabric that she’d last seen within Clementine’s Curiosities as Trisha carried it toward the checkout counter.

It was a dress. A homecoming dress.