Willow

2

Silence.

Willow looked down at her shoes. Were they really going to do this everyday? What if that kid was already dead, heaven knows where, and his body was just never found? She didn't mean to be disrespectful but most of the kids in her class did not give two shits about that kid. What was his name again, Butterfly? What kind of name was that, even?

The clock ticked, as if impatient.

Whatever. She just had to through another minute. No big deal. Tomorrow was Friday, anyway. All she had to do after was sit, be quiet, speak only when spoken to (or called on), and then she would be free.

The timer went off, and so began the normal buzz of the classroom.

The hallways were crowded, per ushe. This was exactly what happened at the mall. People rushing in and out of classrooms followed by an abundance of shoving.

"Excuse me," she growled. Someone's elbow collided with her shoulder. "Watch it!"

There was an, "Oops, my bad," followed by an outburst of snickers.

"Assholes," Willow murmured, clutching her sweater sleeve.

"Don't listen to them," a voice said, startling Willow. She thought, for second, that they were talking to someone else. Looking up, though, she realized that they were looking–at her.

"Oh, yeah, no," she stuttered. "No, I would never listen to them. Bunch of goofs."

"I think they're too dumb to be goofs, honestly," they said. "I'm Arbor, by the way, in case you were wondering. No one really does care, but"–they shrugged–"I don't know. There's always a possibility."

Arbor was dressed in a hoodie with a jagged bottom that looked like they cut themselves. A musical note with sparkles around it was imprinted. Above the musical note was a pronoun pin. They were also wearing blue cargo shorts, mud smeared around.

"I'm Willow," Willow said.

"Cool." Arbor smiled.

First time for everything.

"Also–" They reached into their backpack and pulled out a stack of papers. "If you would like to donate, it would be appreciated. No pressure, of course."

Taking a paper from the stack, Willow scanned it with her eyes. The top of it read "Bills for Butterfly", the middle with a hand drawn butterfly. Each wing showed different facts about missing kids; Willow's eyes grew wide as she read each one.

"Sorry if they're a bit...too much," Arbor said, chuckling nervously. "The purpose was to scare people into donating. Some people these days just don't stand for injustice."

Willow took a look at the paper again. There was a bit of leftover money that she'd gotten for her birthday. She'd spent most of it on art supplies, planning to save the rest for later. That was almost half a year ago. Maybe this is what she should spend it on. Maybe it was fate.

"I have a hundred bucks," she said. "Not right now, at home."

Arbor's face lit up. "Really?"

"...Yeah."

Suddenly, Willow found herself being strangled. Oh wait–this was a hug. She didn't want to be rude, especially since Arbor was probably the first person capable of being nice. Capable of being nice to Willow, anyway. Everyone was capable of being nice in a way, but being nice to Willow was different. She didn't know why. It felt like whenever someone complimented her or smiled at her, they didn't really mean it. This was the first time she felt like she could actually make a friend.

So, with a forced smile, Willow bottled all her uncomfortableness in and said, "No problem."

Willow and Arbor spoke during lunch. She found out that Arbor's donation money was funding for supplies they needed to find Butterfly.

"Why do you want to find him?" Willow asked. She couldn't understand why someone would do all that for someone they didn't even know.

"I don't know." Arbor took a sip of their juice. "I think everyone else just gave up and, to me, that didn't feel right. He was a kid–a kid–at our school and then–poof!–disappeared into thin air. Frightening. Well, interesting, too, if we're being honest."

It was interesting, indeed, Willow had to admit. It's not everyday someone from your city decides to just disappear, seemed like something pulled straight out of a TV show. The more she thought about it, the more anxious she became. Was she going to get dragged into this situation? Was there some part of her that, perhaps, wanted to get dragged into this situation?

"Uh, yeah, interesting," was all she said.

Arbor eyed Willow's tray. "You...eating that?"

"Um, I don't think so." Willow hated cafeteria food. She knew bringing in a lunch was legal and was not an act of disrespect that would get her in trouble (obviously), but her mom never had time to make her lunch. Old, forgetful Willow couldn't make her own lunch even if she wanted to. Besides, cooking wasn't her strong suit.

Willow pushed her tray across the table towards Arbor.

"Oh," they stammered. "I didn't mean I wanted it, I just wanted to know if you forgot to eat, or something. Food and energy are connected, y'know."

A moment of silence passed, making Willow wonder if she'd done something wrong. Would it be like those trips to the mall all over again? If only she could think of something to say. Something right to say.

Just as her mouth began to open, Arbor leaned forward and said, "So I was thinking... Could I come over? To your house? Residence? Place of shelter? I need somewhere to crash and store supplies. It is convenient, too, if we're going together."

"Together to what?" Willow tried looking Arbor in the eye to let them know she was asking them and not talking to herself–which she happened to do a lot. Unintentionally.

"To look for Butterfly," Arbor chirped. "Justice waits for no one!" They pointed one finger up in the air and posed. Willow could hear the giggles around them as Arbor sank down in their chair.

"Don't listen to them," Willow said even though she was very much listening to every whisper and comment being said about them. "Assholes."

A small smile appeared on Arbor's face. "Yeah."