“Come on, Rufio!” his classmates yelled as Stuart lagged behind the group shuffling into the building.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he murmured under his breath.
“I know! There are so many to choose from!” his best friend chirped, tugging on one of his arms. “Which one are you getting?”
Their voices echoed off the stone walls as they entered the long corridor.
Today was a field trip to what everyone called Graduation Hall — a rite of passage for every Bluff Street student. Inside, row after row of butterfly wings hung from shining stands. Wings of every color and pattern shimmered in the sunlight that spilled through the high windows. When the light hit just right, it looked as if the whole room was made of stained glass.
For most students, this day had been circled on the calendar for months — the day they’d get to pick their wings. But for Stuart, it was the opposite. He had circled the date too, only as a reminder of the day he wished would never come.
“What’s wrong, Stuart?” came a familiar, steady voice from above.
Salami Hoo swooped down gracefully, folding his wings as he landed beside him. As the proud son of a long Bluff Street line of thinkers, Hoo was known for always asking the “why.”
“I don’t want to be a butterfly,” Stuart said, staring down at his feet and gently pushing at an invisible pebble.
Hoo tilted his head. “Why don’t you want to be a butterfly?”
“I just don’t want to,” Stuart replied. “I really like being me. I’m a caterpillar.”
“But it’s your destiny,” Hoo said matter-of-factly. “All caterpillars become butterflies.”
Stuart hesitated, glancing up. “Says who?”
Hoo blinked. “Hoo?”
Stuart chuckled. “No, not you. I mean who says all caterpillars have to become butterflies?”
Hoo blinked thoughtfully. “I don’t know. It’s just… tradition, I suppose.”
Stuart looked around the hall. The other students were already measuring wings against their backs, laughing, turning to catch the light. “But I like being a caterpillar,” he said quietly. “Why do I have to change what I like about myself?”
Hoo shifted, feathers rustling. “Well, what would you rather do then?”
“I just want to stay on the ground,” Stuart said. “Do caterpillar things. Crawl. Think. Watch the world.”
“But your feet will wear out,” Hoo replied. “They weren’t made for the ground forever. Only until graduation.”
“Then I’ll make shoes,” Stuart said suddenly, his eyes lighting with mischief. “The kind the humans wear when they visit.”
Hoo blinked again. “Only humans wear shoes.”
“Why?”
Hoo smiled softly. “Good question.”
And for a while, the two of them just sat together, watching the sunlight shift through the wings.
A caterpillar and an owl, trading ideas and daydreams of a caterpillar running a shoe store — unaware of the quiet way destiny moves when we simply like who we are.