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

by Denise Deegan

  In my room, I sit on the bed in shock. Sixteen and pregnant. I think of the show. Of how hard life becomes. How impossible. You have to grow up. Just like that. Never have fun again. Be responsible for this tiny person. Change nappies twenty-four-seven, never go out. It’s like so, much, pressure. Everything gets serious. You fight with your boyfriend, like, all the time. If he hangs around. I can’t believe they weren’t more careful. Alex and David, for God’s sake. Like, is there anyone more sensible? Outside of Rachel. I swear to God. I’m never having sex again. It is so not worth the risk.

  I think about the whole pregnancy thing. Of her stomach getting all bloated and swollen. Stretch marks. I think of people noticing, staring, bitching. People like Simon. Oh my God, you can get piles.

  We go together. And even though it feels like the three of us again, I can’t help wishing it was the three of us going for coffee, not this. Poor Alex. She’s so white. So quiet. We wait together in silence, Alex ripping an information leaflet into tiny shreds. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. At last, they call her in. She stands up. Rachel and I look at each other, not knowing whether to stay or go with.

  Alex looks down at us. ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  She looks so afraid, we stand immediately.

  We go in slowly, like we’re about to face a firing squad.

  The doctor is female, which is a relief. She introduces herself and asks us to sit. There’s this chair situation – we have to find one more. Rachel does, at the back of the room. We sit in a line, facing the doctor, one of us on each side of Alex.

  There are a lot of questions, many of them about dates, all of them embarrassing. Alex is probably wishing she didn’t ask us in. Finally, the questions stop and the doctor asks Alex to lie up on an examination bench.

  ‘Do you want us to go?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘Only if you want to,’ the doctor says. ‘This is just a quick external examination. And I’ll be pulling a screen.’

  Even that’s embarrassing.

  When they reappear from behind the screen, the doctor takes Alex’s blood pressure, weighs her and gives her a jar to pee in. Alex takes the jar away to the loo.

  We sit facing the doctor.

  ‘Not an easy time,’ she says.

  ‘No,’ Rachel says.

  ‘She’ll need her friends around her now.’ It’s like she already knows that Alex is pregnant.

  We look at each other, then at the door – which is opening. Alex, looking about as humiliated as a person can look, hands over the jar. Our eyes follow it like it contains the inner secrets of the entire world. The doctor takes it to the sink. Her back is turned to us so we can’t see what she’s doing. Alex’s future is in her hands right now. Does she know that?

  She turns around.

  And, from her face, we know.

  Then she confirms it.

  ‘Oh God,’ Alex says. She practically folds in two.

  The doctor talks about counselling. And options. But Alex looks so shocked, I know that she’s not taking it in. I know I wouldn’t be. I try to listen for her, so we can tell her later. Finally, the doctor puts a business card in Alex’s hand and tells her to call when she wants to talk.

  We all stumble out.

  We end up out on the street, standing around, not knowing what to do next. I hand out the chocolate. No one speaks till we’ve eaten a few squares.

  ‘I don’t want to go home,’ Alex says.

  ‘Will we go for coffee?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘On condition we don’t talk about it,’ Alex says.

  We find a Starbucks and order frappuccinos. They don’t taste as good as usual.

  ‘Remember that game we used to play,’ Alex says. ‘Where we’d make up stories for everyone in the coffee shop.’ I know what she’s doing. Trying not to think of her own.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘That guy over there.’ I nod to a man in his thirties, wearing a suit on a Saturday.

  ‘Job interview,’ she says. ‘For like, McDonald’s or something. He hasn’t done it yet. He’s psyching himself up with caffeine. He’s a thing for Scarlett Johansson. He cuts his own hair. Obviously. He has a pet snake.’ I think of Shane and automatically feel calmer. ‘He is a Pisces, but hates water. He’s a vegetarian, but hates vegetables. His favourite TV programme is The News. He sleeps in his socks …’ She goes on for way, way longer than usual. I’ve never heard her as creative. I feel like hugging her.

  Going back on the DART, I hate that we are going to have to leave her. To go home alone. To tell her dad. Or not. To think of her options. Or not. To tell David. Or not.

  My stop is first.

  ‘Want me to come home with you?’ I ask her.

  ‘No thanks, I’ll be fine.’

  I hug her goodbye. Squeeze her extra tight. ‘Call me any time, OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Middle of the night. I don’t care.’

  She smiles. ‘See you Monday.’

  It doesn’t seem right that life will just go on as normal. School on Monday.

  Much, much later, I’m crashed in front of the TV with Roxy on my lap watching Legally Blonde, and trying not to think about Alex. Mum comes in after her night out. I hear her in the kitchen. Talking. I sit up, wondering who’s with her at one in the morning. She comes into the sitting room.

  ‘Thought I saw the light on,’ she says, cheerfully.

  I nearly drop Roxy. There’s a man with her. Middle aged and kind of boring looking. She sees me looking at him and turns to introduce him.

  ‘Sarah. This is Éamonn.’

  He looks like an Éamonn.

  ‘Hey,’ I say.

  He looks at the TV. ‘Legally Blonde. Excellent.’

  Is he gay or just into Reese Witherspoon? And what’s he doing with my mum?

  ‘We’ll leave you to it,’ Mum says to me.

  ‘Actually, I was just going to bed. So I’ll see you in the morning, I guess.’

  Mum smiles. ‘Night, night, Sweetie.’

  It’s one in the morning but there’s no way I’m going to sleep. Not with a man down there, with her. What’s he doing here, anyway? She’d better not like him. Oh my God, she better not be dating already.

  In the morning, at breakfast, she’s humming. Oh my God.

  ‘Who was that guy?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh Éamonn? Just a friend of Ellen’s. He wasn’t drinking so he offered me a lift home.’

  ‘So you’re not seeing him again?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did he ask?’ I have to know.

  ‘Sarah, I’m not ready for anything like that. Right now, I feel I’ll never be ready again.’

  Good, I think, because I’m not sure if I could take any Éamonns hanging around.

  ‘So what are you doing today?’ she asks.

  ‘Walking Roxy. Studying with Shane.’

  ‘Have you time to go to Ikea?’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘Thought we could have some girly time.’

  ‘That’d be great … What time does it close on Sunday? I really need to study.’ Translation: I really need to see Shane, since I missed him yesterday.

  ‘Seven, I think.’

  ‘OK, I’ll go see Shane early. Cool.’

  ‘I can pick you up from the home if you like.’

  ‘That’d be great, thanks, Mum.’ I can’t believe it.

  Shane’s rented a DVD.

  ‘You went out and got this yourself?’

  ‘Are you trying to insult me?’ he says, popping the disc into the player in his room.

  ‘Course I am,’ I say, joking. But it’s so great. If he’s going out by himself now, doing normal stuff, maybe some day he’ll want to move home.

  The movie’s seriously corny. Until this one scene involving celery that is so outrageous we can’t stop laughing. I’m crying I’m laughing so much. Then we’re looking at each other and suddenly it’s like everything stops. Our smiles fade and we’re just looking at each other – in a way that says,
‘I’m into you.’ I want time to stop. I want this moment to last forever. But he looks away. Embarrassed, I go back to the movie. But my heart is hammering. I look at the screen and only the screen but I’m only aware of one thing, the person next to me. And how badly I want to be with him. How the hell did that happen?

  When the movie’s over, he zaps it off. ‘So, crap, right?’

  ‘Crap.’

  And I don’t care how cool he’s acting, something has started. Something that I don’t want to stop.

  ‘I’m starving,’ he says. He checks his watch. ‘Great, almost dinner.’

  It’s a hint. And, hurt, I take it. ‘I better go.’

  He nods. He sees me out in silence. And as I walk through the door all I can think is, I wish he’d kissed me.

  I’ve wished for this. I’ve wished for a mum who’d suggest trips like this, a mum who’d want to hang out with me, no agenda. And it is great. I haven’t seen her so happy in so long. She’s looking at everything and commenting. She’s lifting stuff up and examining it. She’s even making jokes. But all the way round Ikea – and it’s a long way – I’m thinking of Shane. And how badly I want us to be together.

  When we get back, we bring Roxy for a walk. Then I’m saying goodnight. I’m going upstairs. I’m closing the door. I’m lying on my bed, eyes closed, imagining his face, imagining his lips on mine. Is it possible for your whole body to ache for a person? Because mine is aching for him. I open my eyes to my wall of caliente men.

  ‘Well, gentlemen. It’s been fun.’

  I get up and, one by one, I take them down. Even Robbie Williams.

  TWENTY-THREE | POSITIVE OPTIONS

  In school, Simon and Amy go everywhere together. He even sits with her at the canteen. Like, all the time. They look so happy, as if all he needed was to find the right person. Which makes me feel rubbish. He catches me looking and gives me a look-what-you’re-missing smile. Which makes me feel better. Because it reminds me what a creep he is. I think about Shane and how he makes me feel. Good about myself. I think about Shane all day. I think about Shane in a way I’ve never thought about him, till yesterday.

  After school, I tell the others to go ahead. I go to the bathroom and change into my skinny jeans and my best hoodie. I put on some mascara and lippy. I have to slip into an empty classroom to curl my hair.

  Sitting on the DART, I start to stress. Is it too much? Too obvious? Maybe I should change back. But where? I tell myself to stop freaking. It’s Shane. It’ll be OK.

  But when I get to the home, it’s not OK.

  I go over to him, sit down, grab a chair and say, ‘Hey.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ he whispers.

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Your clothes. Your hair.’

  I feel myself blush.

  There’s a really long silence. He’s just staring at me. Then he says, ‘I can’t give you anything.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m going to die.’

  It’s like missing the bottom step. And for a second I don’t know what to say. But I recover. ‘We’re all going to die.’

  ‘You should be out with your friends.’

  ‘You are my friend.’ I feel I’m fighting for him now.

  ‘You’re spending too much time here.’ He says it like he’s determined.

  And then, I know what I have to do. The exact opposite of what I want to.

  ‘Oh my God! You think I fancy you, don’t you? You think … what do you think … that I want to go out with you?’ I make it sound ridiculous. ‘What is it with guys? A girl likes you and automatically you think they fancy you. I like your company, Shane. We have a laugh. And for the first time in my life I can study. Why do you have to complicate it?’

  He grimaces. ‘I’m way off the mark here, amn’t I?’

  I give him a look. ‘Way off.’

  He grimaces again. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘You should be.’

  ‘No. I really am sorry.’ He runs a hand through his hair. ‘I had to make sure. I mean, the last thing you want to do is get involved with someone like me.’

  ‘Yeah well you needn’t worry,’ I say, like I wouldn’t go out with him if he was the last guy on earth. But all I want to do is kiss him. And hug him. And cry.

  Next day, even though I want to more than anything, I don’t go to the home. I can’t. Instead, I go with Alex and Rachel to the Jitter Mug.

  ‘How’re you doing?’ Rachel asks Alex. I expect her to say, ‘fine’. And leave it.

  But she looks at Rachel. ‘I just want it to go away.’

  Oh my God, I think, she doesn’t mean—

  ‘I’m just so tired of hearing about “positive options”. Everywhere I go, everything I read, it’s positive bloody options. I’m sorry but what’s positive about becoming a parent before you’ve even grown up yourself? What’s positive about carrying a baby around for nine months then giving it away like you’ve no responsibility to it at all? What’s positive about killing it? There are no “positive options”. When people start using the word “positive” you know you’re in trouble. I’ll never use “positive” again. As long as I live.’ And then from talking so fast, so angrily, her eyes fill. ‘I wish my mum was here.’ She sounds so young. So lost.

  ‘We’re here,’ Rachel says, and holds her hand.

  ‘I should tell my dad, shouldn’t I? I should at least tell Dad. I mean I can’t tell David till I decide what to do.’

  There’s a pause.

  ‘Maybe you could decide together,’ Rachel says. ‘I mean you’re in it together.’

  Alex’s eyes widen. ‘What if we’re not? What if it’s just me?’

  ‘Come on. David, of all people, he’s a good guy.’

  Alex closes her eyes. ‘I don’t know if I can do it, find the words …’

  ‘You don’t have to tell him. All I’m saying is it’s an option.’

  ‘I haven’t been able to talk to him properly since the tests.’

  ‘But that’s good,’ Rachel says. ‘He’ll know something’s up. It won’t come as a total shock.’

  Alex looks at her hopefully. ‘You think?’

  Rachel nods. ‘I’d tell Mark, if it was me.’

  Alex nods. ‘Yeah. Maybe.’ Two seconds later, she’s saying, ‘I don’t know.’

  For the rest of the week, I stay away from the home. I try to concentrate only on Alex. On helping her. But she has gone back to not wanting to talk about it.

  On Thursday night, Shane calls.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asks.

  My heart stops. ‘Yeah, fine.’

  ‘You haven’t been in.’

  ‘I’ve been hanging out with my friends.’ Like he said I should. I don’t mean to sound hurt, it just comes out that way.

  There’s a long silence. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah. I just want you to have a life.’

  ‘I have a life.’

  There’s a pause. ‘Can we start again?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Just forget what happened. Go back to the way it was.’

  I don’t want to go back. If it weren’t for that wheelchair, that freaking disease, we’d be together now. I know we would.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘So you coming for Bingo?’

  I sigh. If I don’t go, I may as well never go again. And I don’t want that. If it’s friends or nothing, I’ll take friends.

  ‘Yeah. I’m coming for Bingo.’

  ‘Cool.’

  If I didn’t know it was Friday, I’d know now. Miriam is in the kitchen when I come down. And it’s weird. She’s as familiar to me as Coco Pops. I still hardly know anything about her. Some day, I’ll google Human Resources. Today, though, I watch as she helps herself to Mum’s muesli. Which is a good thing because the Coco Pops are running low. I pour myself a bowl and join her at the table.

  ‘So you from around here?’ I ask.

  ‘Other side of the city.’<
br />
  ‘So you just, like, travel to Louis’ pub, once a week?’ Seems a bit stalkerish.

  She smiles. ‘I do night classes in Blackrock on Thursdays.’

  ‘Ah.’ I get curious. ‘What kind of classes?’

  ‘Pole dancing.’

  ‘Seriously?’

  ‘No.’ She laughs. ‘Why all the sudden questions?’

  I shrug. ‘We see each other every week now and I don’t know anything about you.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  We laugh. She’s nice. And suddenly I don’t want her to get hurt.

  ‘Miriam. Louis isn’t the kind of guy you end up in a serious relationship with. You know that, right?’

  She points a spoon at me. ‘That’s all part of his charm.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘So,’ she says, pushing the empty bowl of muesli away and starting into toast. ‘Does he talk about me at all?’

  I thought she just said . . . ‘Eh, no.’ I blush.

  ‘Good,’ she says and laughs.

  Never thought I’d say it, but I need to get to school.

  School’s different for me now. In French, instead of dreaming of boulevards and pain au chocolat, I have my verb book open and I’m trying to figure out something that’s always confused me – the difference between the two past tenses. I glance up. Simon’s looking at me. He rolls his eyes like I’m an idiot. So I just smile like he’s the idiot. Then I think of Shane. But that doesn’t cheer me up like it normally does.

  After school, I’m totally nervous. I mess my hair, make my uniform extra sloppy so it looks like I don’t give a shit. All the way to the home I’m wondering if I’m mad going back. This could be my get-out-of-jail-free card. Just never go back. Never get hurt more than I’m already hurt. But I can’t do it. I can’t not turn up.

  He sees me and smiles so widely, so automatically, that I know he’s glad I’m here. And I can’t help it, I smile back. I go over.

  ‘I missed you,’ he says. ‘No one to slag.’

  ‘In that case, I missed you too.’

  ‘Hope you haven’t been slacking off on the old study.’