When the Butterflies Came

by Kimberley Griffiths Little

  I try to sit up, but the world keeps rotating too fast and all that beautiful island food is threatening to come up my throat. My fingers are shaking as I pull out a few splinters from my legs and arms. The drummers have stopped. I hear women crying out. Were there more shots? Is anybody hurt? The press of people begins to throng toward me. I stare through the trees, trying to see Madame See or Mr. Masako again, but my eyes keep whirling as I glance across the musicians.

  Tafko is not there any longer.

  I don’t see him anywhere.

  Was he the one with the gun? Did he shoot? Or was it Madame See? Or Mr. Masako, who wasn’t even invited to the party? Then I wonder if all three of them are in cahoots together.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” I tell Eloni. I turn away, mortified, my stomach heaving.

  “Tara!” snaps Riley. “You are not going to be sick!”

  “I’m not?”

  My sister hauls me to my feet as Alvios and some of the other village elders run up to us. The men examine the tree, Chuukese words going a mile a minute all around me.

  The whole world tilts as I realize that somebody tried to kill me. Or were they aiming for Riley — or Eloni? No, Eloni had gone to fill his banana-leaf plate moments earlier. Did he know someone was going to shoot me and moved out of the way purposely?

  I look at Eloni and his eyes shift to meet mine. I don’t know what to think. I’ve never been more terrified in my whole life. I grip Key Number Ten in my fist until the ragged edges feel like they’re cutting open the skin of my hand. The pain finally makes me move.

  I don’t know who to trust or believe any longer. All I know is that the clues and the keys aren’t a game. It’s life and death. Just like Grammy Claire warned me all along.

  I think Eloni sees my thoughts cross my face because he darts forward, his brow creasing.

  I don’t wait. I can’t wait.

  Riley sees my thoughts, too, and the urgency to leave before Eloni can stop us. Before I know it, she’s pulling me away from the crowd and dragging me back to the dune buggy. “Come on, Tara!” she yells, seizing my hand.

  My feet start working, finally, and we’re running for our lives.

  Riley shoves me into the passenger side, and I hand her the key. Sand and gravel spitting, engine roaring, she turns the dune buggy around and heads straight for the beach.

  May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun

  And find your shoulder to light on,

  To bring you luck, happiness, and riches

  Today, tomorrow, and beyond.

  ~IRISH BLESSING~

  We drive and drive — or fly and fly — sand spraying, lurching over dips and holes and ruts. Darting around piles of fallen coconuts from the trees above. Colorful birds soar from tree to tree; insects swarm the banana trees.

  When we make the last curve and enter Butterfly Lagoon I’m relieved to see that it’s deserted. The waves are more ferocious than they were two days before. Wind is frothing the sea.

  “Come on,” I tell Riley as she parks the dune buggy inside a mangrove thicket. “It’s almost time for the butterflies to come out.”

  “Are we going to wait for them on the beach?”

  “No, we’re going to find the Giant Pinks. I think they live in the underwater grottos.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” Riley says, stopping as I begin climbing over the rocks and tide pools.

  “Come on!” I demand, and she finally follows. Soon I’m scrambling up the face of the rocks, crawling on my hands and knees until I reach the overhanging ledge of rock. Ducking my head, I scoot under, afraid it’s going to be black as night inside.

  “Hey, wait for me,” Riley says, panting as she slides under the ledge.

  Once we’re both under, we clamber down the other side of the sloping rock, a wonder world directly in front of us.

  The Giant Pink grotto is spectacular. Not dark and scary at all. Rock formations create a domed low ceiling and slants of sunlight pierce the cracks and fissures, reflecting off a gigantic pool of water. A pool bigger than ten swimming pools combined. The seawater is so crystal clear, I can see all the way to the bottom, the blue color growing an even richer, darker hue where the water level is deepest. It’s like a narrow canyon filled with the sea.

  I kneel on the stone ledge, which runs along the perimeter of the grotto. “Look, way down near the bottom. Can you see those big turtles?”

  Riley lets out a low whistle. “Wouldn’t it be fun to swim with them?”

  I stare so hard it feels like my eyes are bugging out of my skull. Crusted along the sides of the plunging rock walls are sprays of coral in every color of the rainbow. The living coral shivers and sways with the water’s movement. Almost doesn’t look real. More like a painting in a slow-moving underworld.

  Getting on my stomach, I lay my palm flat on the water’s surface, skimming my hand back and forth. The water is thick and warm. Riley lies down next to me and we stare down into the depths of the pool, pointing out fluorescent orange coral or the striped fish chasing each other far below. It’s like looking into the world’s biggest aquarium.

  “So where are the Giant Pink butterflies you keep talking about?” Riley asks, rolling onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. We talk in hushed tones like we’re in church. Every move we make echoes in the chamber and trembles across the water.

  “Back in those dark recesses? Maybe they fly around during the day and only return to sleep at night.”

  Inside the cave, I finally feel safe. Part of me feels bad that I just left Eloni without saying a word, but I’m scared. The sound of that gunshot whizzing by my ear and shattering the tree keeps playing over and over again in my mind. “I can’t believe I almost died a little while ago.”

  Riley scoots closer. “You need to find this last lock and we need to get off this island. Get the next flight back home. I’m serious.”

  I know she’s right, and I hate to leave the butterflies unprotected, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do. I don’t even know why I’m supposed to save them or help them. “I don’t have any more clues. No more letters, no more keys. I’m stuck, Riley.”

  “I haven’t told you this yet, but I heard a car motor and tires on the gravel in the middle of the night,” Riley says next.

  “Maybe someone just passing by?”

  “Not much traffic out here — if you haven’t noticed already.”

  “Eloni’s grandfather has that taxi. And Tafko has a car, too. Maybe other villagers do, too. We’re a long way from the main city. “

  “Could be them, I guess.” Riley shrugs again, closing her eyes. “But it seemed so close. Right under my bedroom window. Hey, wanna go swimming while we think about where to go next? Maybe Grammy Claire was talking about a different cave. And we can’t go back home without an island suntan. It would be, like, illegal.”

  I can’t believe we’re actually having a normal conversation. Suddenly, my pulse is in my throat. I grab Riley’s shoulder. “Look! Down on those rock ledges under the water! Do you see that?”

  “What, what?” Riley rolls back over and we lie shoulder to shoulder, our noses practically touching the water’s surface.

  My heartbeat crashes in my ears. “It’s — it’s a trunk! Or a chest of some kind. Sitting back under that ledge. You see it, right?”

  Riley turns toward me and I can tell she’s overwhelmed. “D-do you think — ?”

  “Key Number Ten! I knew there was something else it unlocked, not just a dune buggy.”

  Pulling off my tank top, I fling it to the ground, then strip off my shorts so I’m in my yellow swimsuit.

  Riley watches me, blinking. “What are you doing, Tara?”

  “I’m going in. Gonna swim down there and see what that box or trunk is.”

  “But you’ve never swum in a lake or the ocean before. Wading is not swimming.”

  “I’ve had swimming lessons. I can do it. Besides, I body-surfed with Eloni yesterday.”
r />   “But what about all those fish down there? And the sea turtles? What if they attack you?”

  “People snorkel and scuba dive all the time — just to see turtles and fish up close. They’re not going to hurt me.”

  She gives me a peculiar look. “I’ve never seen you so brave. You’re always such a straitlaced priss.”

  I find myself chewing on my hair, staring into the deep water, so clear, so filled with amazing creatures. Why am I doing this? What’s happened to me in the past few weeks? Is it Grammy Claire, the ten keys, Eloni, Mamma? Or is it the nipwisipwis — the overwhelming need to learn their secret? To protect their secret. Grammy Claire had sent me on a mission and every moment felt like time was running out.

  “I’m going in,” I say, sucking in air. “Are you coming with me?”

  Riley stares into the water, then at me, then back into the water. “I’ll wait here and make sure you get down there okay. If not, I’ll save you. Or get help.” She glances around, looking suddenly frantic. I’ve never seen her like this before. “Wish we had some rope so I could tie one end to you and hold on to the other end.”

  “I’ll bet it’s not more than ten feet to that ledge. Like going to the bottom of a swimming pool. And it’s warm. I’m not going to cramp up.”

  “What will I tell Mamma if you drown?” Riley gets more agitated. “This is crazy. We should get help.”

  “No! Nobody can know about this. Grammy Claire intended for me to come here. I have to get that chest out. If it was too dangerous, she wouldn’t have given me the key.”

  “Weeelll, that’s true,” Riley says, finally letting go of my arm.

  “I’ll bet Grammy Claire put that trunk on that ledge herself.”

  “Or Eloni did,” Riley says slowly.

  My brain clicks and a few things fall into place. I can picture Eloni here, diving down, Grammy sitting on the ledge, giving out instructions.

  Riley pulls me back from my diving position. “Maybe we should get him to do it.”

  “No!” I say again. “We don’t know if we can trust him, either. Grammy Claire gave me the key, not him.” I shiver, thinking of all the people out there I didn’t trust any longer. “Whatever we find in that trunk is for us. Our family.”

  Riley presses her lips together. “Take a huge breath, Tara, and if you run out of air, come straight back up, okay? Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  She reaches out and hugs me tight, then releases me. I can’t remember the last time my sister hugged me. Impulsively, I throw my arms around her neck and hug her back. Her skin is soft and warm, even if her hair is like porcupine bristles against my cheek. “I love you, Riley,” I whisper in her ear.

  She gives a little choke. “Me, too,” she says, so faintly it feels like an echo off the rocks.

  I expand my lungs, breathing deeply over and over again. Then I take a final lungful of air as I lean over the ledge, staring straight into all the deep, gorgeous blue — and then fire off the edge. My fingers slice the water as I plunge, and I think I’m six or seven feet down within two seconds.

  Stroking hard, I pull myself deeper into the underground pool.

  The fish and sea turtles ignore me. They’re about fifteen feet farther down, busy with their own lives. I swim past all that purple and orange and pink coral, and it feels like I’m inside an aquarium. Inside the cozy warmth of the belly of the island.

  The next stroke of my arms and I’m at the shadowy ledge along the canyon’s wall, my cheeks puffing out, trying to hold in air for as long as possible. My fingers brush against the metal straps of the rounded trunk. A treasure chest. I hear Riley calling to me from above, but her voice is garbled and muted, far, far away.

  I’m running out of air. And I forgot Key Number Ten. I stuck it in the pocket of my shorts after Riley parked the dune buggy.

  It’s probably better to bring the chest up anyway. I don’t have time to open it down here without an oxygen mask. I also don’t want to lift the lid and have the contents float away. Or get snapped up by a sea turtle.

  I wonder if it’s filled with jewels and gold and silver — which is completely silly. Grasping the handle, I pull out and then up away from the ledge. Amazingly, the chest seems light. What if it’s empty? Is this some local kid’s idea of a joke? Eloni’s? Or maybe Tafko is trying to drown me by luring me to the treasure chest!

  Kicking hard with my legs, I reach for the surface again. My lungs are bursting, all the air whooshes out, and my eyes bulge. Riley grasps my arms and pulls me out of the heavy, warm water, placing my palms on the rock edge so I don’t float off. “Breathe, Tara, breathe!” she cries out as I inhale all that lovely oxygen.

  Water rushes off me, and I feel like a drowned rat, but I’m elated. “I did it! I did it!”

  “Hey, this treasure chest is pretty light,” Riley says, sliding it across the ledge so we can open it. “Maybe it’s empty.”

  Scrambling to my knees, I reach for my shorts. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” After all the keys and letters and clues, were we just going to be completely disappointed? Grabbing the key, I glance up and my eyes meet my sister’s. There’s fear and hope and love all mixed up together.

  Riley gives me an encouraging smile. “Here goes nothing.”

  “Please, please, please,” I whisper to the cavern, not sure what I’m pleading for. No matter what’s in that box, Grammy Claire will still be dead. Nothing will change any of that.

  My hands are shaking as I stick the key into the lock. “It fits!” I whisper hoarsely.

  “I feel like we’re in a movie,” Riley adds excitedly.

  My head lifts. The shadowy grotto darkens a couple of shades as the afternoon disappears. “Do you hear something?”

  “Nope. Open it, Tara, I can’t stand it.”

  I turn the key and the lock snaps as I lift the lid and pull it back. There are no jewels or gold medallions clinking together to form a lovely pile of wealth, but there is a thick manila envelope in a waterproof plastic bag that has Tara Doucet written in Grammy Claire’s handwriting. For Your Eyes Only — Urgent and Vitally Important.

  “More clues?” Riley bursts out, obviously disappointed as she helps me unwrap the plastic.

  Tearing open the envelope, I pull out a thick sheaf of papers. Scientific formulas spread across the pages. Chemistry formulas. Lots of math. Lots of pages. Typed-up notes. Analyses written in professor-type jargon. Piles of it. It would take a month to read through all this. And I wouldn’t understand a word of it.

  “Mumbo jumbo,” Riley mutters. “Why did Grammy Claire put all this in here? And why put it in this cave?”

  I stare inside the thick envelope, trying to focus. Words jump out at me. Nipwisipwis is written over and over again on every sheet. Giant Pink. Experiments. Turn back time. “This is Grammy Claire’s research about the butterflies. Research she wants to keep secret.”

  “But why?” Riley asks. “I mean, butterflies are great, they’re beautiful, but top secret? Was Grammy Claire losing her mind? Was she paranoid?”

  My mind is going a mile a minute. “Think about those photographs of Grammy Claire in her bedroom. Think about Eloni’s grandfather, who looks so young. The Giant Pinks must have some sort of unusual chemical property. A gene or chemical that can turn back time. The butterflies make people younger. Maybe they make people live longer, too, I don’t know. Grammy Claire hid her research because she was afraid someone was going to destroy the nipwisipwis to harvest them. Someone out there wants to kill them all and take their power.”

  The reality of it sinks in. The reason my grandmother never talked about her work here. The secrecy. “Maybe —” I start, tears pricking at my eyelids. “Maybe it’s the reason she died.”

  “That’s crazy, Tara. Nobody killed her. It was an accident.”

  I bite at my hair. “Maybe. Maybe not. If this is true, turning back time, making people young again — this would be worth millions. Billions! If it’s true, there are a lot o
f people who would steal her research. And, oh my gosh, the letters!”

  “What?” Riley practically shouts.

  “Grammy Claire kept saying in her letters that the Giant Pinks were in danger. And that there were people who wanted to steal them. Destroy them. Experiment with them. Kill them. Maybe destroy this whole grotto. Our grandmother was trying to save them from extinction!”

  Riley goes still as a statue. “We have to turn this research — all these papers — over to a laboratory or institute or something.”

  “No! Grammy Claire wants me to save the nipwisipwis! She wrote all those letters in case she died. But she couldn’t come right out and say it. She had to let me figure it out. So that whoever wants to kill the Giant Pinks wouldn’t be able to find her research.”

  “Look!” Riley says. “There’s something else on the bottom of the chest.”

  Another envelope is taped to the bottom. When I rip it open, a new key falls into my palm. “It’s for a safety deposit box,” I say, shocked. “Look, here’s a number and the name of the Island of Chuuk Bank. She must have reserved a new one — in case the first box got raided.”

  Somehow, when I unfold the sheet of paper included with the key, I know it’s the last letter Grammy Claire wrote and hid away. I hold off for a moment, blinking back tears, wanting to savor each word.

  Dearest Tara,

  You’re a smart girl and I’m sure you are piecing everything together if you’ve found the chest in the underground grotto and you’re reading this last letter.

  I compiled the most important parts of my research and moved it here. The rest of it I’ve burned. With the new bank deposit key, you will find my last will. The one I created and signed right after I booked my ticket for my trip to visit you. Whatever Last Will and Testament you may have seen or heard this past week is not mine. It’s a fake. I don’t know who concocted it or witnessed it. I do not know what’s in it, but I suspect that none of my life’s savings were given to you — and I also suspect that what is left of my laboratory is being given to some other scientific research lab that wants to harvest the Giant Pinks.