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

by Denise Deegan

  Fifteen minutes later (I’m checking), Rachel comes back on her own. She tells the teacher that Alex has gone home sick.

  ‘Is she OK?’ I ask as she passes me.

  ‘Yeah, she’s OK.’

  And straight away I know. There’s something she’s not telling me.

  Later, when I get to the home, Shane’s busy with more Christmas crackers. I sit with him. It’s automatic now.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asks, after a while.

  ‘Hmm? Nothing.’

  ‘Come on. You can’t keep things from Uncle Shane. Uncle Shane knows when something’s up. Uncle Shane notices everything.’

  I sigh. ‘It’s nothing, really. Just that sometimes I feel a bit left out.’ I tell him about Alex and Rachel.

  ‘Hang on. How do you know Alex told Rachel what was wrong?’

  ‘I just knew by her when she came back from the loo.’

  ‘But you weren’t actually there. So, Alex couldn’t have told you if she’d wanted to.’

  ‘Yeah but Rachel could have. And she didn’t. She’d plenty of time before school ended. Like, maybe Alex asked her not to.’ And that hurts so much.

  ‘Or maybe because Alex wants to tell you herself?’

  I feel a bit better. ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I don’t know, but she’ll probably be in tomorrow.’

  And just like that, I feel like hugging him. ‘Thanks.’ I get up. ‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ I say, like I’m going to the loo. I grab my bag.

  I go to his room, take out the crystal and hang it next to the window. Like magic, the sun comes out from behind a cloud and rainbows appear all over the room. I smile. Then I get the stars. I stand on his bed and stick them to the ceiling. And now for the grand finale. I take out pictures of his favourite buildings that I found on Google Images, blew up, printed off and put into glass frames that I got cheaply once (on a trip to Ikea with Alex and Rachel). I turn around and there he is, watching me.

  ‘I can’t believe you did that,’ he says, his voice all soft.

  I shrug. ‘No biggie.’

  ‘It is to me.’ He comes in. ‘Thank you.’

  I wave it away. ‘So, have you got your portfolio?’

  He smiles, then wheels to the cupboard and pulls out a huge, black, leather portfolio. He passes it to me.

  ‘Cool.’ I sit on the bed and zip it open, dying to see what’s inside.

  ‘Oh my God, this is amazing.’

  ‘No it’s not.’

  ‘Shut up. You know it is.’ There are loads of brilliant designs. A kids’ crèche and playground. A pool area for a posh hotel. A school canteen.

  ‘You’re so talented.’

  ‘No I’m not.’

  This time I just give him a look. I go back to the portfolio. I could look at it all day. There’s so much detail in each drawing.

  ‘What do you want to do?’ he asks.

  I look up.

  ‘When you’re big,’ he jokes.

  I feel bad. I have a life and don’t know what to do with it.

  ‘I’m not sure I’ll have much choice.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You’re looking at the classic dumb blonde here.’

  ‘There’s nothing classic about you.’

  ‘It was the dumb I was worried about.’

  He smiles. ‘You are so not dumb.’

  I tell him about my problem with studying and exams – and what will happen if I don’t improve.

  ‘So you’re just going to have to improve.’

  ‘Yeah, just like that,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘What’s your best subject?’

  ‘I’m not totally hopeless at French.’

  ‘Ooh, the confidence.’ I make a face at him. ‘What’s your worst?’

  ‘Business.’

  ‘Do you fail?’

  ‘Regularly. I just don’t get Business.’

  ‘You’re running one.’

  Oh, yeah, I think. I am running a business. ‘That’s different, though. It’s practical. I learn nothing useful in Business. Nothing you’d use in a real business. So I can’t remember anything.’

  ‘Then give it up. Take another language if that’s what you’re good at. Spanish is easy. I could give you grinds.’

  Ooh, I like the sound of that. ‘I did Spanish in First Year.’

  ‘Well then.’

  ‘Mum wants me to do Business.’

  ‘Why?’ he looks baffled.

  I sigh. ‘She has this thing about independence. Especially since Dad left. She probably wants me to run my own business some day or something.’ I feel suddenly tired.

  ‘Still. You didn’t think she’d let you run a pet-minding business. And she did. So ask her, she might surprise you.’

  ‘So you think I should do Spanish instead?’ And I don’t know whether it’s because I’m upset with Rachel and Alex, or that I just like being with Shane, or both, but suddenly I love the thought of spending more time with him. Even if it would be to study.

  ‘It’s easy. And you’re good with languages. You’ve nothing to lose. Except having to do Business.’

  I imagine what a relief that would be. ‘Thanks, Shane.’

  ‘For what?’

  I shrug. ‘Helping, I guess.’

  He looks at me. ‘I haven’t done anything yet. But do you know how good it would be to help?’ He looks down at his legs. ‘Since this happened, all the help has been one way.’

  And I want so much to hug him.

  That night, getting ready for bed, I get a text.

  ‘Have you seen the stars tonight?’

  I smile, turn off the light, lie back on my bed and look up at the ceiling, at the missing spaces left by stars that I know he’s looking at now. It feels like we’re connected.

  ‘Night, night :)’

  When I get on the DART next morning, Alex and Rachel are deep in conversation. It stops the minute they see me. Rachel smiles.

  ‘Hey,’ she says.

  I think of electrons and outer shells. I want to sit somewhere else, tell them they can have their secret. But they’re my best friends. And I love them. So I pretend that I don’t notice that I’m on the outside again.

  No one says much for the rest of the way. When we get to class we go straight to our desks. I’m fiddling with my pen when I feel the atmosphere change. I look up. Amy has just walked in. On Simon’s arm. She looks up at him like he’s some kind of superhero. He stands tall. Chest out. On display. I think two things: They deserve each other and maybe now he’ll get off my case. Then I think of a third thing: She looks like a puppet, with her long, rectangular face, square chin and slash of a mouth. He’s going out with a puppet. They get the usual slagging, which just makes them smile wider. Amy looks at me like she’s won. I think, Just wait.

  After school, I’m feeling pretty low. All I want to do is go see what now feels like my one true friend.

  ‘Hey,’ he looks pleasantly surprised. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t you say you’d help me study? You’re not backing out, are you?’

  He smiles. ‘Never.’

  ‘I convinced Mum. I’m doing Spanish.’

  ‘Bueno! There’s your first word.’

  ‘Come on, Shane. Even I know that one!’

  Every day, after school, I call to see Shane.

  On Thursday, Rachel asks, ‘You going to the home again?’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  But it’s like they’ve got the world sussed. And I haven’t. Shane, as usual, makes me feel better. With him, I don’t even mind studying. Actually, it doesn’t even feel like study. YouTube has Spanish lessons. French lessons. Stuff on history. And I don’t know why but it seems to go into my head when it’s not coming out of a teacher’s mouth or a book. It’s not all study, though. We play games on Miniclip. We watch music videos. Movies. Family Guy. It’s such a relief to escape that left-out feeling, to be away from Simon and Amy and t
heir stupid looks. And to be able to tell someone about all of that. Someone who actually cares.

  TWENTY-TWO | CELERY

  ‘Sarah, I know you’ve waited a long time to hear this, but I think our work here is done.’ Mary Gleeson shocks me with this on Saturday morning.

  I look at her, suddenly nervous. ‘Are you sure?’ I need her.

  ‘We go on any longer and you’ll come to depend on me. You don’t want that.’

  ‘I know, but …’

  She smiles. ‘You’re not shoplifting. You’ve come to terms with your parents’ separation. And you are very much in control of your life.’

  ‘I sound pretty together,’ I joke.

  ‘You are,’ she says, with so much conviction I want to hug her.

  ‘Thank you. You’re good.’ Something I never thought I’d say.

  She smiles. ‘As are you. It’s been a pleasure, hon.’

  She called me hon.

  And before I leave, she gives me a hug.

  I get home just in time for my next customer. Roxy is a tiny Bichon Frise with a woolly coat like a lamb. She’s so quiet and feminine compared to Paco. She doesn’t make a sound. Her owner, John, is a neighbour. He’s younger but much more formal than Betty. He fills out the form and hands over Roxy’s things. All he says about her is that she gets a bit ‘excited’ when she knows she’s going for a walk. What dog doesn’t? I think.

  ‘Just give her a treat and she’ll be grand.’

  When he goes, I let Roxy get used to the place and me, just let her sniff around and chill. When my phone rings, I don’t expect it to be Alex.

  ‘Did Roxy arrive?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah, she’s here.’

  ‘Want me to walk her with you?’

  ‘Eh. Yeah, sure. OK.’ What’s up? I think. Is she going to tell me? Is that what this is?

  About an hour later, she is here, stooping down, talking to Roxy while I get the lead. When Roxy hears it, she goes mental, jumping up, barking and wagging her tail. Normal dog behaviour. But then, as I’m trying to attach the lead to the collar, she starts to go weird. Her whole body goes into spasm and she starts to wheeze. It’s like she’s having a fit. Her legs look like they’re going to go from under her.

  ‘Oh my God. I’m choking her.’

  ‘You couldn’t be, you haven’t tightened her collar, have you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just leave her for a sec.’

  ‘OK.’

  We watch her. Slowly she starts to return to normal.

  ‘She seems OK now. Want me to try?’ Alex asks.

  ‘Yeah, thanks.’

  Roxy goes weird again. Alex lets her go. ‘Did her owner say anything?’

  ‘Only that she gets a bit excited when she’s going for a walk.’

  ‘Maybe this is just her getting excited.’

  ‘You think?’ I ask uncertainly.

  She shrugs. ‘Here, you hold her still while I get the lead on, then we’ll just start walking and see what happens.’

  We clip the lead on quickly, put her down and start to walk, like nothing’s wrong. Roxy runs ahead, happy.

  ‘Dog whisperer,’ I say to Alex.

  She looks down at Roxy and smiles. ‘She’s so light compared to Homer. I can hardly feel her at the end of the lead.’

  It’s like everything’s normal between us. Which it isn’t. We walk for a good bit, not saying much, then she turns to me.

  ‘How’s it going with Shane?’

  Suddenly, I’m defensive. ‘Fine.’

  ‘You’re going to see him every day now. Wow.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Nothing. That’s just a lot, though, right?’

  I feel a lecture coming on. ‘He’s helping me study.’

  ‘Oh right, cool.’

  We’re quiet for a while.

  ‘You know, Sarah,’ and it’s like she’s determined to say whatever it is she wants to say, ‘the closer you get, the more it’s going to hurt.’

  Oh my God. ‘So, what, I should abandon him? Leave him there to rot like his girlfriend did?’

  ‘No! I’m not saying that. I just think you should be careful not to get too attached.’

  ‘What does that even mean?’

  ‘The more time you spend together, the more you’re going to miss him when he’s … gone.’

  It’s like a punch in the stomach, the thought of him not being there. Of not seeing him after school, of not chatting on Facebook last thing at night, of not looking up at my stars knowing he’s looking up at his too. I feel my eyes smart. And I think, Oh my God, if it hurts like this now, what’s it going to hurt like when he really is gone? But then I think of Shane, the guy I tell everything to, who makes me laugh, who helps me out, who rates me no matter what, and there is no way I’m going to walk out on him. I’m not dropping him. Yes, it’s going to hurt. It’s probably going to kill me. But I’ll take that when it comes. I couldn’t throw what we have away if I tried, however much I’m going to miss him.

  I look at Alex coldly. ‘And this is, like, your business, why?’

  ‘Sarah. You’re my friend. I don’t want to see you get hurt.’

  ‘I’m your friend? Really? That’s interesting. So why do you leave me out all the time? Why do you tell stuff to Rachel and not to me? You say you don’t want me to get hurt. But the way you treat me hurts.’

  She swallows. Her eyes go watery. In seconds, she’s full-on crying. Oh God. What did I say?

  ‘Alex, what’s wrong? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  She takes a huge, deep breath. She closes her eyes. ‘I’m pregnant.’

  Everything stops. ‘What?’

  ‘You can’t tell anyone.’

  Oh my God. ‘Alex, I so wouldn’t. But are you sure?’

  ‘I mean no one.’

  I can’t believe it. ‘I won’t, I swear.’ Roxy jumps up on me, trying to get us to walk again. I ignore her, just put a hand on Alex’s arm. ‘Are you OK?’ Then I think, what a retarded thing to say. How the hell could she be OK?

  ‘No.’ But she smiles.

  ‘I need to sit down.’

  ‘Me too.’

  We sit on the wall beside the path. I look at her. ‘I can’t believe you were worried about me seeing Shane when you’re pregnant.’

  She shrugs. And I think what a great friend she is. A friend who’s in so much trouble now. God. I can’t believe it. I really can’t believe it.

  ‘Have you been to the doctor?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m going to a clinic this afternoon.’

  ‘So it hasn’t actually been confirmed? That’s great. Maybe it’s OK.’

  ‘Pregnancy tests are almost one hundred per cent accurate, Sarah. I’ve done four.’

  ‘Still.’

  ‘Yeah, well I’m not getting my hopes up.’

  ‘What does Rachel think?’

  She looks at me. ‘Sarah, I didn’t tell Rachel. She guessed. I was just so sick in school.’ It makes so much sense. And it changes everything. ‘I wasn’t leaving you out. If it hadn’t been for Rache, I’d still be pretending it wasn’t happening. She made the appointment with the clinic.’

  ‘I’m sorry for biting your head off.’

  ‘It’s OK. I haven’t told anyone else. Just you and Rachel.’

  ‘Not your dad?’

  She bites her lip. ‘I can’t.’

  I think of my parents. They’d kill me. Especially Mum. Actually, I don’t know who’d be worse, Mum or Dad. They’d both lose it. Poor Alex.

  ‘I need to move,’ she says, getting up suddenly. And I know it’s because she’s freaking.

  It begins to feel a bit better, walking. Like we’re moving forward.

  But then she’s stopping again, suddenly, looking at me, eyes wide. ‘Sarah, I don’t know what to do.’

  Oh Jesus, I think. I don’t either.

  ‘I’m so scared. Everything was going so well with David.’ Her eyes well up. ‘What’ll he say? Oh God. I can’t
believe it.’ She drops her face into her hands.

  I put an arm round her. I think of Rachel, and wish she was here. ‘Let’s just see what happens today, OK? I’ll come with you, if you like.’

  She nods. ‘OK. Thanks. Rachel’s coming too. The more the merrier,’ she jokes, but she looks so sad. Then she closes her eyes. ‘Please, God. Please. Let it be a mistake.’

  When we get home with Roxy, Mum is unloading the shopping.

  ‘Hello, girls. Alex how are you?’

  Alex smiles. ‘Fine, thanks.’

  I think of everything she’s going through. The worry. The stress. Hiding it from everyone. ‘Want to go upstairs?’ I ask her.

  ‘Yeah, OK, sure. I’ll just call Mike, though, ‘cause I gotta have lunch and stuff.’ I know what she means – she’s got to get ready for the clinic. I can’t believe it.

  We hang out upstairs for a while, watching some MADtv sketches on YouTube. Neither of us brings it up. Because there’s nothing we can do now except wait.

  Alex’s phone rings.

  Mike’s downstairs.

  I hug her. ‘I’ll see you later, OK?’

  She nods. ‘I’ll call for you around half two.’

  ‘OK, I’ll be ready.’ And I’ll have chocolate.

  When Alex has gone, I do something I never usually do. I stand still. I try to let the news sink in. Try to believe it. I want to ring Rachel and say, ‘Oh my God.’ But actually, I don’t. Because that would be gossip. And this is too serious to gossip about. Poor Alex. I don’t know what I’d do. All I know is that my life would be over.

  Mum comes out into the hall. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Eh, yeah, fine. Thanks.’

  ‘Everything all right with Alex?’

  I imagine what she’d say if she knew. ‘Fine, fine,’ I say quickly.

  ‘That’s good,’ she says cheerfully. ‘You don’t mind if I go out tonight?’

  I look at her, glad. ‘Course not. Who with?’

  ‘Ellen and some friends.’

  ‘You going to the movies?’

  ‘Ellen’s cooking dinner.’

  ‘Cool.’

  ‘Want lunch?’

  ‘Maybe later. I think I’ll just go upstairs for a while.’