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

by Denise Deegan

  ‘Hilarious,’ he says.

  ‘It’s not that hilarious.’ I tell him about the way Simon’s been going on.

  ‘Just tell him I’m in a wheelchair.’

  ‘No. It’s none of his business. And anyway, a wheelchair wouldn’t stop me going out with a person.’ I hear Mum coming in downstairs and can’t believe we’ve been talking so long. ‘Listen, I gotta go and do some study. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, OK?’

  ‘OK, sure. But don’t take any shit from that guy.’

  ‘I won’t,’ I say. And mean it. I feel so much more determined after talking to Shane.

  I go to my desk and take out my books. I try French. For ages. But nothing’s going in. The words dance on the page in front of me like they’re playing with my mind. I switch to Maths. Disaster. I try English – for at least an hour. Finally, I take a break and go down to play with Paco.

  Only I can’t find him.

  In the TV room, he’s snuggled up on Mum’s lap.

  I laugh. ‘I was wondering where he was.’

  She looks down and strokes him. ‘He’s a cute little fellow, isn’t he?’

  ‘Gorgeous. What’re you watching?’ She never watches telly.

  ‘Desperate Housewives. Thought I’d see what all the fuss is about.’ She looks at me, like she’s surprised. ‘It’s good.’

  ‘I know.’ I sit on the couch beside her.

  We watch in silence. I don’t remind her about dinner. I can make a sandwich later. Every so often I peek at her. She looks so chilled, her hand constantly petting Paco. She’s changed so much. But then I think, maybe she hasn’t changed at all. Maybe she’s finally herself again.

  Next day, Alex is really pale. I notice the minute I get on the DART.

  ‘Are you OK?’

  She nods. There are black rings under her eyes. ‘Just didn’t sleep.’

  Rachel looks at me like something’s up. She says nothing. For the whole day Alex is quiet. Miles away. At lunch, she doesn’t eat. She says she’s fine.

  ‘How’s David?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘Fine,’ she says but looks like she’s going to cry. Suddenly, she gets up and hurries out.

  We exchange a worried glance.

  ‘I hope they’re OK,’ Rachel says.

  ‘D’you think they’d a fight?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Maybe she’s just missing him.’

  ‘Then why doesn’t she say so?’

  ‘Point.’

  We know Alex too well to go after her. So we wait. She doesn’t come back till the bell goes and it’s time to return to class. Her eyes and nose are red. She smiles but I’m not fooled. No one says anything. Because there’s no point. Alex is the most private person I know.

  Today, Taylor Swift has us making shepherd’s pie. I’m just thinking how disgusting the mince looks when Alex passes out. Just drops to the floor. Rachel and me are the first to her. We drop to our knees beside her.

  ‘Turn her on her side,’ Rachel says. She moves fast, turning Alex over and bending her leg up so she doesn’t roll back over.

  I take off my jumper and put it under Alex’s head.

  ‘OK, stand back everyone,’ Taylor Swift says. ‘She needs air.’ She loosens Alex’s tie and opens the top two buttons of her shirt. ‘Someone wet a clean dishcloth and bring it to me. Quickly.’

  One of the nerds actually moves. It’s weird to see her go.

  Taylor puts the damp cloth on Alex’s forehead.

  ‘I’m fainting tomorrow,’ I hear Simon say. I turn around and glare at him.

  He makes his eyes big.

  I roll mine.

  ‘Hey,’ Rachel says, gently.

  I turn around. Alex’s eyes are open. Rachel’s smiling.

  ‘You had a little faint,’ Taylor says. ‘How’re you feeling now?’

  Alex tries to get up.

  Taylor puts a hand on her arm. ‘Stay there a moment.’

  ‘Your blood pressure’s probably low,’ Rachel adds.

  I look at her and think, cardio-thoracic surgeon here we come.

  Even though she argues (fiercely), Alex has to go home. We wait with her in the office until her dad comes. Then it’s back to shepherd’s pie. I don’t think I’ll ever eat the stuff again. When school’s finally over, I hurry to get my stuff from my locker. I’m so worried about Alex, I forget about Simon. Until he puts his hand on the door of my locker. Again. Seriously, I’m going to have to stop using it.

  ‘Why did you remove me as a friend on Facebook?’

  Oh my God, what is he, a stalker? ‘Simon, go away.’

  ‘When you answer my question.’

  ‘Why do you think I removed you? You haven’t exactly been acting like a friend.’

  ‘You dumped me. Amn’t I allowed be a little bit pissed?’

  ‘You’ve been dissing me to anyone who’ll listen.’

  ‘You were playing around.’

  ‘You know I wasn’t.’

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  I don’t even ask him to take his hand off – I just jerk the door and it falls off. Then I slam it shut and lock it. ‘I’m not going there, OK?’ I push past him.

  Rachel’s waiting. We walk off together.

  ‘Want me to get Mark to talk to him?’ Rachel says.

  ‘No. It’s fine. He’ll get bored eventually.’

  But all the way home, my stomach’s in a knot. I wish I’d never gone out with him. I wish he’d leave me alone. I get home and Paco rushes to me like a best buddy. He’s going mental, jumping up, whining in excitement, wagging his tail. I burst into a smile and bend down. He launches himself into my arms. I laugh and carry him into the kitchen, talking to him all the way.

  ‘Did you miss me? Did you miss me?’

  He licks my nose. I put him down and open the back door. He rushes out but straight back in again when he realises I haven’t gone with him. God, he’s so cute. I put the cleaning on hold and go get his ball. I can’t believe it’s our last day together.

  After I’ve fed and walked Paco, I text Alex to see if she’s OK. She calls me back.

  ‘I’m fine. I don’t know what all the fuss was about,’ she says crossly. ‘I didn’t need to go home.’

  ‘You sure you’re OK? You’ve been kind of pale lately and stuff.’

  ‘What stuff?’

  ‘I don’t know, kind of miles away.’

  She says nothing.

  ‘Maybe you should take tomorrow off. Just in case.’

  ‘Sarah. I’m fine. I’ll be in school tomorrow.’

  ‘OK. Cool.’

  ‘How’s Paco doing?’

  ‘Going home tonight.’

  ‘Already?’ She sounds sorry.

  ‘I know I’m really going to miss him.’

  ‘We’ll just have to get some more posters up.’

  ‘You sure you’re OK?’

  ‘I’m sure. Say bye to Paco for me.’

  I close the door behind Paco and Betty. I walk into the hall, then throw the three twenties up in the air. I scream and do a little dance. I know I charged it, I still can’t believe I earned it. When Mum comes home, I hand her a note. She looks at it.

  ‘I’m not taking that.’

  ‘It’s your house. You looked after him too.’

  ‘It’s your business.’

  ‘Yeah but—’

  ‘But nothing. I’m not taking your hard-earned cash. You did a great job, you Young Entrepreneur, you. I’m so proud of you, Sarah.’

  And maybe it’s sad how much that means. I look down at the money, then up again, smiling. Par-tay.

  Next day, after school, I get off the DART in Dun Laoghaire and go on a shopping spree. In Boots, I get mascara for Alex and Rachel and, because there’s a promotion, a free one for myself. It’s a new brand we’ve been waiting for. I can’t believe I’m the first to get it – and for everyone. I get lilies for Mum (she loves lilies). I buy a pair of novelty shades for Louis in Penney’s (to thank him for that
twenty). Shane is a toughy. I try to think of what I’d want if I was in a home. A break from routine. McDonald’s! I get him a Big Mac, large fries and a large Coke. Then, so it doesn’t go cold, I have to get a taxi to the home.

  He’s not in the day room, so I go to his room. I’m about to knock, when the door opens. I’m standing with my fist in the air when a woman appears in front of me. A crying woman. Oh God. I stand back. She walks out, a man behind her. In the corridor, he puts an arm around her and they walk out together. The man is a well-known TV presenter. His surname is Owens. I can’t believe Shane never said.

  I’m still standing there, watching them leave, when Shane comes to close the door. He looks so serious, so sad. Then he sees me. ‘Oh.’

  ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘No … Come in. It’s OK.’

  ‘It’s not a good time.’

  ‘Is that McDonald’s?’

  I hold up the bag. ‘Got paid for my first job.’

  ‘Well, then, what are you waiting for? Let’s celebrate.’

  We go in. I hand him the bag.

  ‘What about you?’ he asks.

  ‘Not hungry.’ Actually, I’ve run out of cash.

  He takes out the burger and offers it to me anyway.

  ‘No thanks, seriously. I got it for you.’

  He bites into it. And closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he says, ‘I can’t believe I forgot how good McDonald’s is.’

  ‘Sorry for barging in.’

  ‘You didn’t barge.’

  ‘Your parents, right?’

  He watches the door like he can still see them leave. ‘Yup.’

  I just nod. Don’t ask.

  ‘They want me to come home,’ he volunteers.

  So I feel I can ask, ‘Why don’t you?’

  He shrugs. ‘They don’t need this.’

  ‘But if they asked …’

  He shakes his head. ‘I used to make them proud, Sarah. Now look at me.’

  ‘They still love you.’

  ‘They’d have to change the place for me.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I’ll be dead in a year.’

  ‘You don’t know that. Some people live for five. And then there’s Stephen Hawking who’s lived forty years with motor neurone disease.’

  ‘So who’s been on Google?’ he asks smiling. Then he’s serious again. ‘I’m working off fourteen months, Sarah, the average lifespan for someone with this.’

  I ignore that. ‘I bet your parents would give anything to have you home.’

  ‘I used to have a future, Sarah. I was going to be an architect. I was going to pay my way, pay them back for everything. They’ve done enough. They don’t need this.’

  I remember his mum’s face. ‘Can’t you let them decide that?’

  He looks away. ‘Can we drop it?’

  ‘Why do you keep telling people what to do – your girlfriend, your parents … me.’

  ‘Thanks for the McDonald’s,’ he says.

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  We fall silent.

  I want to say something. Anything. ‘Architecture … You must be pretty brainy.’

  He shrugs. ‘I used to be.’

  ‘Motor neurone disease doesn’t affect the brain. You’re still smart. Do you have a portfolio?’

  He shrugs. ‘At home.’

  ‘I’d love to see it.’

  He says nothing.

  ‘So what buildings do you like?’

  ‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’

  ‘Nope. What buildings?’

  He sighs. ‘The Sydney Opera House. The Guggenheim in New York. And, I guess, the art deco library in Ringsend.’

  I nod, trying to memorise them. I decide not to give him the stars or the crystal. Not yet.

  Mum loves the flowers.

  ‘They’re only Tesco,’ I say.

  ‘They’re beautiful.’ Immediately, she takes out a vase and starts to arrange them.

  ‘The house is so quiet,’ she says, looking up. ‘You really miss him, don’t you?’

  I should tell her. ‘I called him, Mum. We’re meeting at the weekend.’

  ‘I presume you’re talking about Dad,’ she says with a smile.

  ‘Aren’t you?’

  ‘No. I was talking about Paco.’

  We laugh, but then she gets this sad, dreamy look like she’s remembering that her marriage has broken up.

  ‘You did the right thing, Mum, making him choose.’ I’ve been blaming her for so long – when actually what she did was really brave – making herself the bad guy.

  ‘I don’t know, Sarah. If I hadn’t made him choose, he’d still be here for you.’

  ‘Maybe not. He could have left anyway. Even if he hadn’t, it would have been a lie. And you’d have still been angry. And lost. It’s better now. Really it is. Because it’s not fake. And you can be you.’

  She smiles. ‘Thank you. For understanding.’

  ‘You’re welcome!’ I smile brightly. Because I know, suddenly, she’s going to be OK.

  TWENTY-ONE | STARS

  ‘You left in a pretty big hurry last week,’ Mary Gleeson says. Her smile doesn’t seem fake any more. And her curiosity doesn’t make me feel like running.

  ‘I ended it with Simon.’

  ‘And how are things?’

  ‘Better.’ I tell her, for the first time, all the stuff I put up with to stay going out with him. I take a deep breath. ‘I can’t believe I was so needy.’

  ‘But you’ve changed, Sarah. And well done you.’

  For a while we’re silent and it’s nice because her last words kind of hang there.

  ‘So, outside that, how’ve you been?’

  I tell her about Paco. ‘Thank you so much. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have asked my mum.’

  ‘Did she mind having a dog in the house?’

  ‘That’s the amazing thing. She loved it. She adored Paco.’ I smile. ‘She didn’t want him to go.’

  ‘How’s your mum doing in general?’

  ‘So good.’ I look at her because I’m about to admit something I’ve never before admitted. ‘I was so upset when they split up. I mean devastated. I know that people split up all the time, but it felt like the end of the world. I didn’t want to talk about it. I especially didn’t want to think about it. But seeing Mum become herself again, I don’t know, it makes me think that maybe it’s not the end of the world after all. Maybe it’s better for her. She’s not angry. She’s doing things she likes to do. She’s so much nicer and easier to live with.’ I shrug. ‘It’s weird. But good weird.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Sarah. And you’re talking more?’

  ‘Yeah. Definitely. I mean not total heart-to-heart conversations or anything. But it used to be just her asking about homework and stuff. Now we actually talk.’

  She nods and smiles. And says, ‘wonderful,’ again, almost to herself. Then she looks at me. ‘And your dad? You were going to contact him?’

  ‘He’s bringing me for lunch later.’

  ‘Don’t expect too much. Bit by bit. Slowly, slowly.’

  ‘OK.’ It’s weird how confident I am in her advice now.

  ‘And the shoplifting?’

  I’m almost offended she’s brought it up. Which makes me want to laugh. When we started, that’s the only thing I wanted to talk about, the shoplifting. I look at her, so amazed at how everything’s changed.

  ‘I don’t even think about it any more.’

  She smiles. ‘I knew that. But you understand I had to ask?’

  I nod. And think how amazing she is.

  ‘So, a pet-minding business,’ Dad says, like he’s impressed.

  He’s brought me to this really nice seafood restaurant in Monkstown, though I told him McDonald’s would be fine. I tell him about Paco. And, for a while, it’s easy between us. But then I run out of things to say.

  ‘So, how’s the community service going?’ he asks.

  ‘Good.’
>
  He takes a bite of the bread and chews. Finally, he says, ‘I wonder if you’ve done enough?’

  I think of Shane. ‘No! I like it. I want to keep doing it.’

  ‘OK. Cool.’

  Cool? My dad? I squint at him. ‘What is she like?’ I ask before I can help it. ‘No. Forget it. I don’t want to know.’

  He says nothing.

  I look at him. ‘You and Mum weren’t good for each other, were you?’

  He gawps at me like he doesn’t know what to say.

  ‘She’s happier now,’ I add.

  ‘She said that?’

  ‘No. But she is. She’s taking in dogs. Eating pizza. Going to romantic comedies. Watching Desperate Housewives. She’s doing what she wants to do. Not what you want her to do.’

  He looks shocked. ‘Is that what she said?’

  ‘No.’

  He looks confused.

  ‘She lost herself when she was with you.’

  He looks even more confused.

  ‘She doesn’t blame you, by the way.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And it’s better at home now.’ I butter a piece of bread. ‘Actually, it’s pretty good.’

  Monday morning, on our way to class, without warning, Alex dashes into the loo. Rachel looks at me.

  I shrug.

  ‘Better wait,’ she says.

  A few minutes later, Alex comes out smelling of sick. She smiles like nothing’s wrong.

  ‘Have you just been sick?’ I ask.

  ‘A tiny bit. I rushed my breakfast.’

  Rachel eyeballs her. ‘Alex. You’re sick. Go home.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘You don’t look fine,’ Rachel says firmly.

  All of a sudden Alex’s eyes well up.

  ‘Oh God, Alex, what is it? What’s wrong?’ I ask.

  ‘Nothing.’ She takes her books back from Rachel. ‘Come on.’

  With no other option, we follow.

  Class starts. Twenty minutes later, Alex rushes out. We look at each other. Then Rachel gets up and walks out after her. The teacher looks at the door that’s just closed behind her.

  ‘Where are they off to?’ she asks, looking at me.

  ‘Alex is sick,’ I say. And I can’t believe how much you can get away with when you actually go for it. You think teachers are going to explode – and then they don’t. I’d get up myself but I know Alex. Me being there would only make it worse.