The caterpillars grew and grew. Every few days, the children took the little containers to their desks and examined the tiny creatures. Chance didn’t always manage to get his caterpillar in the rush, but he stopped by the ledge at least once a day, picked out the container with the nick in the lid and checked for movement and growth.
One week after that first morning, on the same day that the new kid, Ken, showed up, Chance decided that he needed to get a real look at Matilda. That was what he had named her. Lunch was the best time. Ms. Samson always went to the staff room then and, after they had finished eating, no one was allowed to be inside. Chance was usually the last to leave, delaying the lunch monitors’ departure and getting his name on the board for refusing to cooperate. Today, when the outside bell rang, Chance went out right away, leaving the lunch monitors behind, mouths agape with shock. He went straight around to another door and reentered the school. The next few minutes he spent in a cubicle in the upstairs washroom. Then he slipped out, down the stairs and into the classroom. Perfect. The room was empty.
He closed the door behind him, fetched Matilda off the ledge and took a magnifying glass off the low shelf where they were kept. Then he settled down at his desk. He eased the lid off the container. There she was, fat, fuzzy and beautiful.
He tipped her out onto the desktop. She was many times the size she had been last week. Soon she would be ready to become a chrysalis. He gave her a little poke with his finger and she began to crawl, seeming to sense her way with her waving whiskers. Her body wiggled back and forth as she moved forward. He pulled the magnifying glass out of its box and held it up to his eye. Matilda doubled in size again. Chance was transfixed. The colors, the pattern, the delicate little hairs—she was gorgeous! He stared and stared, pushing her in a different direction whenever she came too close to the side of the desk. She felt soft and alive to his touch.
Then, with no warning, the bell rang. Lunch break was over. Chance leaped to his feet and stared wildly at the doors. Then he pulled himself together. He just had to put her back. That was all. It would take a while for Ms. Samson to let the kids in at the side door. He turned back to his desk and froze in shock. Matilda was gone!
The floor. Chance backed away and dropped to his knees. He must have brushed her to the ground when he jumped up. Keeping his hands and knees well clear, he started searching the floor beside his desk. He didn’t find the caterpillar until he looked farther away, under his new neighbor’s desk. He must have sent her flying. There she was, curled up on her side. Dead? Or hurt? She was still, not struggling to turn over, not moving at all. Something that looked like thin thread lay on the floor beside her. She had tried to save herself, like a spider, Chance thought. The inside of his nose and eyes prickled. Within seconds, the door would burst open and twenty-five children with big stomping feet and mean hands would storm into the room. He made his fingers into gentle pincers, reached out and lifted Matilda off the carpet. Without getting up, he reached for the container on his desk. As children streamed into the room, he nestled Matilda into her cup and watched her for a moment. Yes, there was movement. She was alive. But he had no way of knowing how badly hurt she was.
He snapped the lid firmly into place and slipped the container into his desk. Matilda needed him now. He wasn’t going to put her back in that crowd of caterpillars where any child in Division Seven could get his hands on her.
He would see to it that she was safe.