The Project

(Fiction. Very cheesy alert.)

Billy had a secret.

While all his fourth grade classmates complained they couldn’t find any good insects for their collections, Billy smiled to himself.

He was sure to win First Prize and the gift card to the game store at the mall. Just in time for summer, too, when he could play for hours.

Behind his Grandmother’s farm house, beyond the chicken coop and the pond, he’d discovered a patch of field swarming with incredible butterflies. Bright, bold, multi-colored wings flitted from flower to flower.

It had been easy to capture the huge Monarch and other beautiful specimens. Right this minute they were imprisoned in some of his mom’s large Mason jars. Tonight he would suffocate them and prepare them for display.

He really needed an A to make up for poor test scores. Then his folks would be so proud!

He could hardly wait to get home and create his masterpiece.

After supper, Billy went to his room and lined the jars up on his windowsill.

Something about the late afternoon sunlight made the jars appear so clear and pretty. And the velvety wings, now so very still, gave Billy an unexpected sadness.

He stared at the Monarch and thought of the field; surely there were plenty more out there. He’d only caught one.

He backed away from the window and sat on his bed. He folded his arms and stared once again at the windowsill.

At his project.

At his First Prize.

At his A.

Then he frowned.

Where was the excitement from earlier?

He glanced at the clock and knew he had to finish the project.

The next morning, all the kids huddled in front of the insect collections. Who would win?

Billy remained in his seat and waited for the teacher to notice his display.

A display of empty jars.

He finished munching on his pop tart, doodled on his notebook, and patiently waited for his big fat F.

.