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

by Denise Deegan

  ‘Stop,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to know.’ That he fell out of love. That he met someone else. ‘I’m here because of the shrink. I’m here to tell you how I feel so I don’t shoplift any more. That’s it. OK? So let’s just leave it at that.’

  ‘Sarah. I still want to be a father to you. I want to hook up with you, hang out.’ He sounds like a hippy.

  ‘It’s all about what you want, isn’t it?’

  ‘I still love you.’

  ‘Not enough to stay.’

  ‘I love Anthea.’

  ‘Good for you,’ I say and think, what a crappy name.

  ‘Look. Maybe we could do something. Maybe your mother and I could go to counselling—’

  ‘Get real, Dad. You’re not coming back, so what’s the point? Anyway, she doesn’t need you to go to counselling. She’s doing that without you. Actually, she’s doing fine – in general – without you.’ Oh God, I think. What if Mum doesn’t want him to know that she’s seeing someone? I shouldn’t have said anything. I should never have come.

  ‘I’m glad she’s seeing someone,’ he says, like he’s some sort of kindly saint.

  ‘I want to go now.’

  We drive back in silence. Was this supposed to make me feel better or just stop me shoplifting? Because I sure as hell don’t feel better. And if it hasn’t stopped me shoplifting, Mary Gleeson is a dead woman.

  ‘I think that session went well,’ Dad says when he pulls up outside the house.

  I stare at him. ‘I’m your daughter, not your patient. That was not a session.’

  He looks embarrassed. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. It wasn’t.’ He pauses. ‘So can we do this again soon?’

  ‘I gotta go,’ I say and hurry from the car.

  TWELVE | HUMAN RESOURCES

  Saturday night and I’m getting ready to go out with Simon, Rachel, Mark and a few others. Music blaring, I’m right up to the mirror, putting on mascara.

  ‘Careful you don’t fall in there.’

  I get such a fright I poke myself in the eye. I turn around. ‘Shit, Louis. Ever hear of knocking?’

  ‘I did knock.’

  I turn down the music. He comes in, sits on the bed. I look at him suspiciously. Louis never comes in and sits on my bed.

  ‘Heard you saw Dad,’ he says.

  I ignore that. Go back to my eyelashes.

  ‘How did it go?’

  ‘Brilliant,’ I say sarcastically, without turning around.

  ‘You going to see him again?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Why not?’

  I stop what I’m doing and turn. ‘Louis, you better not be turning into some kind of corny father-figure type person or something.’

  He has a good laugh at that.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about Dad, OK?’ I put away my mascara and reach for my lip gloss.

  ‘OK. But you only get one, right? And he’s not the worst.’

  ‘Thanks for that, Louis.’

  ‘When we get together, we have a good laugh.’

  ‘I’m thrilled for you. Was there anything else?’

  I expect him to go. But he doesn’t. He just sits there on my bed.

  ‘So, any news?’ he asks, finally, like he’s the man of the house now and we should have a chat.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Going out?’

  ‘Ye-ah.’ What is wrong with him? He’s never this dumb.

  ‘With the usual suspects?’

  I see his face. It’s so obvious. I have to stop this right now.

  ‘Look, Louis, forget it. You haven’t got a chance, OK? She’s in love with David.’

  He pales. ‘What’re you talking about?’

  ‘Alex. I saw the way you look at her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You love her.’

  He gets up from the bed. ‘You are completely stupid if you think I love anyone.’

  ‘OK, well, I’m just saying. Don’t waste your time. That’s all.’ I sound harsh. But life is harsh. And he better get used to it.

  ‘Alex is a kid, OK? I don’t waste my time with kids.’

  I’d be insulted for her if I knew he meant it. ‘Good. Don’t.’

  ‘Don’t worry I won’t.’ And he’s gone, as quickly as he arrived.

  I’m not asking him for a lift, after that. So I walk to Simon’s. He answers the door with a quick ‘hey,’ then disappears back to the couch. There’s a rugby match on their huge flat screen.

  ‘Ready to go?’ I ask.

  ‘This’ll be over in a minute,’ he says, without taking his eyes from the action.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Toulouse versus Wasps.’

  ‘What?’

  He doesn’t answer. I sit beside him. Look at the screen. I try to see what the attraction is. Some of the players are pretty cute, I guess.

  ‘Who’s that guy? Number ten?’

  He doesn’t answer. It’s like I’m not here. I get up and start to wander around, looking at their paintings and stuff. Their coffee machine is the one George Clooney advertises. If I liked coffee, I’d make myself one. I look over. No offer of sustenance from the couch. I help myself to a Coke from the fridge. Finally, I wander back over. Sit down again.

  ‘I met my dad,’ I try. Normally, we don’t do personal.

  He stares at the screen, leans forward and starts shouting. He stands suddenly and punches the air. Maybe I should have told him he was going bald.

  The final whistle blows.

  ‘Great,’ I say, standing, ‘let’s go.’

  ‘Hang on. I just want to get some of the commentary.’

  And I swear to God, I feel like leaving without him. Instead I go to his father’s drinks cabinet and add some vodka to the Coke.

  Sunday. I’m in Dundrum with Alex and Rachel. And I have to leave. I have to get out. Before I take something. I can’t believe it. I should never have trusted Mary Gleeson.

  They’re walking towards BT2 now.

  ‘I can’t do this any more,’ I say, stopping.

  They turn. ‘You can’t do what?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘This. Shop.’

  Alex smiles. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I don’t know. There’s nothing in the shops. It’s all crap.’

  They look at each other.

  Alex shrugs. ‘Actually, you know what? You’re right. Let’s go see a movie … On me.’

  Oh God. She thinks I’m stressing because I’m broke. Which makes me feel like a total shit.

  ‘What’s on?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘Only one way to find out,’ Alex says and starts to walk.

  I tell myself that she genuinely does love movies.

  I’m relieved to leave the shops behind. I still worry, though, that this hasn’t gone away. In the cinema, we decide on a romantic comedy. Alex promises to kill me if it’s bad.

  It’s seriously good. Watching the screen, I forget everything. I laugh and cry for someone else. Walking out of the cinema, I turn to Alex.

  ‘So, are you going to kill me?’

  ‘I’m thinking about it.’

  ‘What? That was a great movie.’

  ‘It was a bit unreal though.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Rachel says. ‘That guy was way too good to be true.’

  ‘No, he wasn’t,’ I insist.

  ‘No guy’s that nice,’ Rachel says.

  ‘Oh my God, I’m so telling Mark,’ I joke.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she says. ‘He could do with a kick in the ass.’

  I stare at her.

  She shrugs. ‘He’s driving me mad.’

  ‘With passion?’ I tease.

  ‘No, Sarah. Mad in general. He won’t get down to study.’

  ‘Hel-lo. We’re in Transition Year. There is no study,’ I say, then remember that, for me, there should be. I feel kind of sick.

  ‘We both want to do medicine,’ Rachel says then. ‘Have you noticed the points you need?’

  ‘Rache. You’re, like, a total genius,’ Alex
says.

  ‘We should, at least, be keeping up our languages.’

  ‘If my mum heard you,’ I say, ‘she’d adopt you on the spot.’

  But Rachel doesn’t hear. ‘He comes back to my place to study, right? But he doesn’t want to study at all.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ Alex says. ‘And what does he want to do exactly?’

  She smiles.

  ‘Couldn’t you do both?’ I ask. ‘You know, alternate?’

  She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. You can tell she loves him. And that he’s totally mad about her.

  ‘I’d just like to know when he’s going to start taking things seriously, that’s all.’

  ‘He takes you seriously,’ I say. ‘That’s, like, pretty amazing. Simon doesn’t notice me half the time.’

  ‘Simon doesn’t deserve you,’ she says.

  ‘He’s OK. I was just saying—’

  ‘Sarah, he doesn’t appreciate you. That is a fact.’

  ‘He does in his own way.’ I just wish it was more than physical.

  Monday morning. I come down to the kitchen, still climbing into the last bits of my uniform. With one hand still searching for a sleeve, I stop. There’s a stranger in my kitchen. A woman. In a fitted trouser suit. Her dark hair is twisted into a bun. She’s putting bread in the toaster like she’s at home. She doesn’t look like a burglar. I find where my arm goes and shove it in.

  ‘Hello?’ I say. As in: explanation please.

  She turns. ‘Oh! You must be Louis’ sister.’ She smiles widely then walks towards me, hand outstretched.

  ‘Eh, yeah.’ My brain slowly computes. A friend? A lecturer? She has to be at least thirty. She couldn’t be anything else. Could she?

  She pumps my hand. ‘Miriam,’ she says, cheerfully.

  ‘So you know Louis?’

  She smiles the way you’d smile at a kid who’s just said something cute and innocent. ‘You could say that.’ She’s got one of those husky voices, the kind that jazz singers have. ‘We met last night. At the pub.’

  I swallow. ‘Where’s he now?’

  She laughs like a smoker. ‘Oh, still recovering.’

  I’m actually blushing. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have such a good imagination.

  ‘Would you like some toast?’ she asks me, like I’m the guest. Classic Louis, letting an assertive sex beast wander the house. Mum’s house. Oh my God. What if she comes back?

  ‘Eh, no thanks.’ I check my watch. ‘So do you, like, work?’ Hint, hint.

  ‘Yes. I’m in Human Resources.’

  I look at her blankly. Then decide to get on with my life. I go to the drawer below the oven and grab the Coco Pops.

  ‘Oh, so that’s where you keep the cereals,’ she says.

  I sit at the table and start into breakfast. She’s not the only one with somewhere to go. She joins me, making this the weirdest breakfast in the history of my life.

  ‘So, what class are you in?’ she asks, brushing crumbs from the side of her mouth with her pinkie. Like everything else she does, it oozes sex.

  ‘Transition Year.’

  ‘Yeah? What’s that all about?’ she asks.

  I feel like telling her to go have some kids and find out, instead of sleeping with nineteen-year-olds.

  ‘Back in a sec.’ I run upstairs. Knock on his door and burst in. The room’s a mess. But that’s nothing new. ‘Louis, wake up.’

  He’s unconscious. His hair sticking up all over the place. I poke him.

  ‘Louis. Get up.’

  He groans.

  ‘Come on. Your girlfriend’s downstairs.’

  ‘Who?’ he asks groggily, rubbing an eye. Louis was never a morning person.

  ‘Miriam.’

  ‘Miriam … Miriam … Oh, yeah.’ He smiles this really stupid lazy smile. ‘Miriam.’

  ‘Louis, seriously, you can’t let a total stranger walk all over the house. What about Mum?’ There’d be war. Total war.

  He sits up, scratching an eyebrow. ‘What time’s it?’

  ‘Quarter past eight.’

  He flops back on the pillows. Mum leaves at seven-thirty.

  ‘What’s she doing down there?’

  ‘Having breakfast then going to work. She’s in Human Resources.’

  He looks at me blankly. Then turns over.

  ‘Aren’t you going down there?’

  ‘She’s going to work, right?’

  ‘I have to go to school. I can’t leave her down there on her own.’ A lot of normal-looking people are kleptos. I should know.

  ‘Course you can. I’ll get up in a minute.’

  I know he won’t.

  ‘OK. I’m going to school. If she takes anything, you’re responsible.’

  ‘Fine.’ He pulls the duvet over his head.

  I run back down. She’s reaching for her bag.

  ‘How do you get to school?’ she asks.

  And without thinking, I say, ‘DART.’

  ‘Great. You can show me where to get it.’

  Oh my God. I have to walk my brother’s cougar to the DART.

  She talks all the way. Like some sort of wind-up toy. At last, we get to the station.

  ‘OK, see you later,’ I say. I rush ahead with my weekly DART ticket, knowing she’ll have to queue to buy a single.

  Five minutes later, I’m waiting on the platform, when she comes up to me like a stray dog.

  ‘Hello again!’

  I stare at her. Doesn’t she get the message?

  She looks up at the sign for the next DART. ‘Two minutes,’ she says. ‘Good timing.’

  Or bad, I think.

  Two minutes later, the DART pulls in. I scan the carriages for Rachel and Alex. The DART comes to a stop, and there they are in the carriage that opens in front of us. Naturally, Miriam gets on with me. I walk up to the guys. I turn to Miriam.

  ‘Bye, I guess.’

  ‘Sure, nice to meet you.’ She pauses. ‘I didn’t get your name.’

  ‘Eh, Sarah,’ I say.

  ‘Cool, see you, Sarah.

  Unlikely, I think, knowing Louis. She walks on ahead.

  ‘Who was that?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘Miriam.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘She’s in Human Resources.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Jesus, Sarah, who is she?’

  I smile. ‘Someone Louis picked up at the pub.’

  ‘OMG. She’s ancient,’ Rachel says. I can see Alex checking her out.

  ‘Bit of a sex bomb, though,’ Rachel continues.

  ‘I know,’ I say.

  Alex just smiles. ‘Good old Louis.’ Then she catches me staring at her. ‘What?’ she asks.

  ‘Nothing.’

  THIRTEEN | GOLDFISH

  Friday. I walk up the avenue to the home, telling myself it’ll be OK. I’ll just avoid him. Won’t even look his way. Like, what’s he going to do anyway, wheelchair after me? I walk in and can’t believe it. The first pair of eyes I meet are his. He’s with everyone else, turned facing the podium. I feel myself blush but keep walking – over to John.

  ‘Sarah?’

  Oh my God. He’s calling me. Like we’re friends or something. I keep going. Pretend I don’t hear. I smile at John.

  ‘Hey, John. How’s it going?’

  I grab a chair and sit beside him.

  ‘Sarah?’ he calls again. And I so don’t trust him.

  John looks over at him like he’s worried. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. I’m dying. John groans. I have to do something. I look over and try to stay cool.

  ‘Yes?’ I ask, coldly.

  ‘I’m ready for Bingo,’ he says, kind of cheeky.

  ‘Great,’ I say and turn to go back to John.

  ‘Aren’t you going to get me a board?’ he calls, like he didn’t practically throw one at me last week. He smiles innocently.

  And I know that if I don’t get him a board, I’ll just come off as cruel. So, givi
ng him a look that says ‘you don’t fool me, buster’, I get up. I grab a board and counters and bring them to him. I put them down on the tray he’s pulled out from his wheelchair.

  ‘So, you came back,’ he says. ‘Didn’t think you would.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I thought I’d scared you away.’

  ‘Well, obviously you haven’t.’ I start to go.

  ‘Aren’t you going to sit with me?’

  ‘I’m with John.’

  ‘No, you aren’t.’

  I follow his eyes. Oh my God. Another helper is taking my seat. She’s chatting away to him. Oh my God. Didn’t she see that I was there? I look around. Everyone else has someone. I don’t freaking believe it.

  He smiles. ‘Go on, pull up a chair. I won’t bite.’

  ‘Can I have that in writing?’

  He actually smiles.

  But I don’t trust it. ‘Look, you don’t need me. So—’

  ‘I do. I do need you.’ He’s mocking me.

  Which makes me brave.

  ‘How? There’s nothing wrong with your hands.’

  His eyes narrow. And I know it’s coming, whatever he’s been planning to ambush me with since I got here.

  ‘So what are you, some kind of Florence Nightingale or something? Or do you just not have a life?’

  Oh my God. Am I supposed to let him away with that just because he’s in a wheelchair? I glare at him and lower my voice.

  ‘For your information, I want to be here just as much as you do.’

  ‘So why are you?’ He eyeballs me.

  ‘You really want to know?’ I eyeball him back.

  ‘Yes I really want to know.’

  ‘I got caught shoplifting. You’re my community service.’ I can’t believe I told him.

  He bursts out laughing. Turning into a different person. Someone with happy eyes. And white teeth. Someone alive. And I wonder what age he really is underneath all that fuzz. People are looking now, like they’ve never heard him laugh before. ‘Wish you’d told me earlier,’ he says quietly. ‘I might have been nicer.’

  ‘Oh, you mean you do nice?’

  ‘I’ll have to now, won’t I? Seeing as I’m dealing with a criminal. Are you violent too?’

  ‘When I have to be.’

  He laughs again. And I think that the only way to get on with this guy is to give him a hard time. Which totally suits me.