The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

  ‘I haven’t got anything.’ But when I see her face, I add, ‘I do like him, OK Gran?’ And that’s typical of her – getting me to admit stuff like that.

  She smiles. ‘Here, give your old gran a hug. We might get through this yet.’

  It’s the first time she’s admitted that there’s something to get through.

  David’s coming off the hockey pitch, stick across his shoulders, hands draped over it. He’s talking with two guys I don’t know from his club. He sees me, and his face lights up, making me feel lucky. He leaves his mates and comes to me. He takes the gum shield from his mouth and kisses me. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, him all testosterone-y and victorious.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, smiling.

  ‘Hey.’

  He puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. We start walking to the car. ‘So. What’s up?’

  ‘Guess you heard about Mark and Rachel?’

  He looks surprised. ‘Why so glum?’

  ‘I’m not. Just wish I wasn’t the last to know.’

  ‘Sorry. He swore me to secrecy.’

  ‘Not you. Rachel. She never told me. I had to find out from Sarah.’

  He looks at me. ‘I don’t get you two. You don’t tell each other anything.’

  We reach the car. He throws the stick in the back. Then, I make a decision. I take a deep breath.

  ‘It’s not Rachel’s fault. It’s mine.’ I tell him what happened between us. He listens in silence. Until I try to explain, ‘I just don’t do close.’

  He looks at me. I mean, really looks at me. ‘Then what are we doing?’

  The question hangs in the air.

  ‘We’re not close? Is that what you’re saying?’

  I look away, my heart pounding.

  ‘Alex?’

  My palms are sweaty. My mouth dry. I don’t want to think about this.

  ‘I feel close to you,’ he says, so easily. ‘Don’t you feel close to me?’

  I feel like I’m being backed into a corner, forced to admit something I don’t want to admit, especially to myself. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I fumble for the handle. Then I’m out. It’s cooler. More air. I’ll be OK. But then I hear his door open. And I’m panicking again. I turn away, my back to the car. But he comes around and stands in front of me.

  ‘Come on, Alex. If we can’t be honest with each other, what’s the point?’

  ‘Stop, David. Please. I can’t do this.’

  His face falls.

  ‘I need to go home now,’ I say and my voice sounds so flat.

  There’s a long silence.

  He takes a deep breath and blows it out again. ‘OK,’ he says, finally, like he’s giving up.

  In the car, we don’t talk, and when I get out, all I can say is, ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye,’ he says, like it’s our last.

  I rush inside and upstairs. I hear Homer bounding up behind me, probably thinking this is a game. In my room, I stop. Homer comes up to me but then he slows to a stop. His ears flatten and his head drops. He knows something’s wrong.

  ‘Why did he have to push me?’ I ask him, wrapping my arms around myself. ‘Why couldn’t we just have stayed the way we were?’

  Homer sits right up against my leg and pulls himself close with his paw. It’s the way he hugs. I look into his honest brown eyes and see that the problem is not David’s.

  ‘What’s wrong with me? What am I so afraid of? Getting close?’ Homer snuffles his nose into my hand. And finally I admit the truth. ‘I am close.’ It wouldn’t hurt like this if I wasn’t. I’m close to David. And I’m close to Rachel. Which means I could lose them at any moment. That is the scariest thought in the world. I sink to the floor with my back to the bed, throw my arms around Homer and cry into his fur. Because it’s too late. There’s no way out. Running now only hurts. If only I could just not care, or, better, hate, like I hate The Rockstar. I’d be safe then. Oh God. Is that what I’m doing, hating The Rockstar on purpose? No, that’s crazy. I hate him for what he did. But I can’t hate Rachel, and I can’t hate David. Somewhere along the way, I’ve let them get under my skin and creep into my heart. I’m not protecting myself by pushing them away. I’m just losing them faster. Then a terrible thought hits: maybe it’s too late – maybe I’ve already lost them.

  I’ve only one option. I know what it is. But not if I’ll be able to do it.

  I look at the phone. Then walk in the opposite direction. I go wash my face.

  Come back.

  Look at the phone again. It’s gone nowhere.

  I pick it up, put it down. Talk to myself out loud: ‘Do it, Alex. Just do it.’

  I dial the number and cancel. I dial it again and force myself to let it ring.

  ‘Hey,’ he says.

  ‘I’m sorry, David. I was afraid.’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.’ His voice is warm and relieved and Davidy.

  And this helps me say, ‘I’m just afraid of losing . . .’ But, even now, I can’t say ‘you’.

  ‘I’ll pick you up in five.’

  I get to the door before he can ring the bell. Outside, we hug. He’s first to pull back. He looks into my eyes like what he’s about to say is very important.

  ‘You’re not going to lose anyone, OK?’

  I drop my head and mumble, ‘I never thought I’d lose my mum.’

  He takes my hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  This time, when he holds the car door open, I think of Gran, the Door Test, and what she said about him being a ‘keeper’. We don’t drive far, just up the road to a quiet spot where people stop to view the sea. David cuts the engine.

  ‘Come here,’ he says, gently.

  ‘Where?’

  He pats his lap.

  Despite everything, I laugh. ‘I won’t fit.’

  He slides his seat back. Raises his eyebrows.

  Smiling, I climb over. I sit with my legs across his. He kisses my cheek. Then kisses it again. And again. I turn my mouth to his. His hands are in my hair and mine in his.

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he whispers, over and over.

  TWELVE | CALL ME STUPID

  It’s like he’s asked me to jump from a plane without a parachute. And I’ve taken his hand and leapt. No more holding back. No more pulling away. I never thought it would be a relief to let go, to let myself feel what I want to feel.

  But it is.

  On Sunday, for the first time, we spend a whole day together. Last time I went around the zoo this slowly was when I was two years old and insisted on pushing my buggy myself – all the way round. Today, we keep stopping. To look at the animals, but mostly to look at each other, to smile, touch, kiss. I never really got why people snogged in public. I used to think it was corny, kind of show-offy. Now I understand. Sometimes you just can’t keep your hands off a person. It’s the middle of October. And cold. But for the first time in seven months, I feel warm. Like there’s blood in my veins. Like I’m alive.

  A small elderly couple walk toward us, linking arms.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I whisper, ‘They’re so cute. That’s how I want to be when I’m old. Still going to the zoo. Still holding hands –’ I don’t say, ‘– with you.’ Because that would be like saying, ‘Let’s get married.’ But I would like it to be him. I can’t imagine it being anyone else. I try to picture what he’d be like. I think of Benjamin Button. Then I think, stop thinking. He pulls me closer and turns me round, and then we’re kissing. And I’m thinking again. Why get old? Why not freeze this moment, right here and stay like this forever?

  ‘Ooh, lovers,’ a kid calls at us.

  We look at him, then at each other and burst out laughing. It just seems like such an old-fashioned thing to say.

  We spend ages at the sea lions. I have to drag David away. He reminds me of my dad (when he used to be my dad), who had a thing about the orang-utans. He’d have spent all day at their enclosure if we’d let him. They knew how to
live, he said, how to play, how to just hang out, have fun, be a family. He could do with being locked in with the orang-utans for a few days now. But I’m not going to think about him. And ruin a perfect day.

  David buys me a miniature pink kangaroo. I buy too many sweets. We take photos of practically every animal. And of each other.

  When he drops me home, neither of us want it to be over, so we take Homer out to the beach. I fire a frisbee at David. Homer leaps to catch it, all four paws leaving the sand. But, as they say in Chicken Run, he doesn’t have thrust, and can’t reach. At the same time, David throws himself at it, his hoodie lifting to reveal a smooth, tight stomach. I want to climb in there and snuggle. He catches the frisbee, hits the sand and slides. He gives me a piggyback, trying to outrun Homer. We write our names in the sand, then, tired, fire a ball into the sea and sit on the sand in easy silence. I gather a bunch of pebbles and let them fall through my fingers. I do it again, noticing the colours – not just grey but white, yellow, black, olive green and a browny purple colour I don’t know the name of. I pick my favourites and set them out on the back of my hand.

  He smiles. ‘What’re you doing?’

  ‘Making a little universe.’

  He roots in the sand. Then, he’s placing a tiny white pebble, at the edge of my universe. I don’t have to think, just take his planet and move it to the centre. We look at each other for a long time, then we’re kissing. He takes me in his arms and holds me. Imagine how lame it would be to tell a person they make you warm. But he does. He makes me warm. He gives me energy too. I want to do things. I take his hand and drag him up.

  ‘Want to race?’

  ‘Want to get beaten?’

  I take off without waiting for him.

  He runs after me, catches me and wrestles me to the ground. There’s sand everywhere. In my hair. On my eyelashes. In my mouth. But I’m laughing, shoving him over and climbing on top of him, pinning him down and kissing sand into his mouth.

  I get home, walking an inch off the ground. I sail into the kitchen to tell Mum about this really great guy. But she’s not there. Of course she’s not. And I can’t believe that all this time can pass and I can still forget that I’ll never be able to tell her anything again. I stand in the empty kitchen, sadness spreading through me like a pool of water. I want her to be here for this. I want her to share what I’ve found. I want her, full stop.

  Monday morning, Rachel gets on the DART. I want to hug her. Tell her everything. Say sorry. But the carriage is crammed with commuters and I don’t want to be their entertainment. So I wait. Outside of ‘Hey’, neither of us speaks. She looks out the window. I answer a text from David. He sends another. I send one back. I realise I’m smiling and force myself not to. Finally, we reach our stop. On the platform, we get caught up in a stampede of commuters hurrying to get somewhere they probably don’t even want to be. I wait till we’re out of the station.

  ‘Rache?’ I say, stopping.

  People hurry past.

  She turns.

  ‘Remember when you thought there was something going on between me and David McFadden?’

  Her face comes alive.

  ‘Well, there wasn’t.’

  It dies again.

  ‘But now . . .’ I raise my eyebrows because I know with Rachel that’s all I have to do.

  ‘Now what?’ she asks, like she wants me to say it.

  ‘Now . . . we’re kind of together.’

  She breaks into a smile. ‘I knew it!’ Then she’s serious. ‘Thanks for telling me.’

  ‘Should have told you before now. I’m sorry, Rache. I just wasn’t ready.’

  She shakes her head, as if to say, doesn’t matter. ‘He’s such a nice guy. A seriously nice guy. You deserve this.’ But her eyes are teary.

  And I’m worried that we’re not OK after all. ‘Rachel what’s wrong? What is it?’

  She shakes her head. ‘I’m just happy for you.’

  ‘Really? That’s it?’

  She nods. ‘Call me stupid.’

  ‘Stupid.’

  We laugh.

  Then I’m serious again.

  ‘Rache? When I said I don’t do close . . . That was me trying not to be close to you – in case anything happened you and I couldn’t cope. But I am close to you, how could I not be? You’ve been the best friend, Rache.’ Now I’m getting teary.

  ‘Don’t. Don’t get upset.’

  ‘I am so sorry, though.’

  ‘Alex. You lost your mum. You’re allowed act weird.’

  I pretend to be annoyed. ‘So I was acting weird, was I?’

  She laughs. Then stops. ‘Mark Delaney asked me out.’

  I look down. ‘I know.’

  ‘I’d have told you if I thought you’d wanted to know.’

  I look up again. ‘Weird thing is, I did want to know.’ I smile at her. ‘I’ve changed Rache. The old me is back.’

  ‘Good.’ She bumps me with a shoulder. Then she picks up her bag and walks over to the wall beside the path and throws it down again. She sits down. I join her. ‘So,’ she says. ‘What d’you think of him? Honestly.’ She’s looking at me as if my opinion is crucial.

  And I don’t want to let her down. ‘OK. I’m kind of changing. He used to bug me a bit . . .’ I say this only because she knows, ‘. . . but now I’m starting to think he’s funny. Seriously funny.’ It’s true. He’s not half as annoying. But then, nothing seems to be any more.

  She makes a face. ‘The whole thing with the ADD, though. Scamming people.’

  ‘Oh my God! If you went out with him, we could all go out together!’ I say, but then I wonder if I’d really want that. If I’m ready for it.

  ‘Alex. I don’t know if I even want to go out with him.’

  I’d so like her to have what I have, though. ‘You like him, though, don’t you?’

  ‘OK. He’s kind of cute. But I don’t know. I’m afraid he’s just fooling around. He never takes anything seriously.’

  ‘I could ask David?’

  She looks panicked. ‘No! Don’t say anything. He could go back to Mark.’

  ‘He wouldn’t.’

  ‘I know, but just don’t say anything. Please. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ It’ll be hard not to, though.

  ‘So. What should I do?’

  ‘Let me think.’ I wave back to someone from school who’s passing us. ‘OK. Well, why not go out with him once and see how it goes?’

  She makes a face. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Or. You could play hard to get, just to see how serious he is. You know Mark. He’ll give up if he’s not.’

  ‘It’s an idea.’

  ‘What’re you talking about? It’s a great idea.’

  ‘OK, it’s a great idea.’ She smiles.

  And it feels so good to be talking like this, joking like this, telling each other stuff again.

  ‘Hey, guys!’ We turn. It’s Sarah, hurrying up to us, ahead of another bunch of commuters. ‘Is this a private party or can anyone join in?’

  Rachel and I pick up our bags, and we all fall into step together. Sarah launches into a moan about perverts on public transport. I look over at Rachel. She looks back at me. We share a smile. And that’s all it takes for me to know. We’re OK again.

  When we get to class, I see David and can’t believe how close I got to losing him.

  ‘You go ahead,’ I say to Rachel and Sarah.

  I can feel their eyes on me as I walk right up to him.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, smiling.

  ‘Hey, yourself.’ He’s smiling too.

  I squint. ‘Can you bend down for a sec?’

  He stoops, putting his ear to my mouth, assuming I want to tell him something. But I don’t want to tell him something. I want to show him. I take his face in my hands and turn his mouth to mine. In front of the entire class, I kiss him.

  ‘That’s how close I feel to you,’ I whisper in his ear.

  There’s a whoop. ‘Go, McFadden!’ from Mark
Delaney. People start to call out.

  ‘Get a room!’

  ‘Save it for Biology.’

  David’s looking at me like there’s no one else in the room. He puts his arms round me and kisses me back – a long, lingering, slow kiss that makes my toes curl.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ someone says.

  I’m smiling all the way back to my desk. Where Sarah is waiting for me. On full gossip alert.

  ‘Oh my God! You and David McFadden! Since, like, when? Just now?’

  I look over at Rachel who’s smiling at me and shaking her head like I’m mad.

  And I am a bit. But who cares?

  Tiptoes walks in. The class ignores her as the scandal spreads.

  She claps her hands. ‘OK! OK, people. We’ve work to do here.’

  Like I said. Buzz Lightyear. Work, I mean, what a carrot.

  Next class is Macbeth rehearsals. I sit on my table at the back of the hall, pretending to doodle but really watching Mark Delaney. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. He keeps looking at Rachel. I mean, all the time. They’re only quick glances, like he’s just checking she’s still there, but he’s totally aware of her.

  David sits next to me.

  ‘He’s totally into her,’ I whisper.

  ‘Has been for ages.’

  I look at him, amazed.

  ‘They’d be good together,’ he says.

  I look back at Mark and frown. ‘What about the ADD thing?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘What kind of person does that? It’s scamming people.’

  ‘Just his pushy parents.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Mark’s a bright guy. He just wants to go at his own pace. When he has to study, he will. He wants to do medicine. He knows he’ll have to put in the work next year.’

  ‘He wants to do medicine?’ Mark, whose only ambition is finding the easy route? But then I think of the play. He worked so hard to get that part. ‘Oh my God! He wanted Macbeth to get close to Rache, didn’t he?’

  David raises his eyebrows then mimes pulling a zip across his mouth.

  ‘He tried so hard for it. For her. That’s so romantic.’

  I must look a bit overexcited, because he says, ‘You better not tell her, though.’