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

by Denise Deegan

  I look at him. ‘I love it.’ I try to put it on but he has to help. I hold it up to the light. ‘It’s beautiful.’

  He smiles, like he’s glad he got it right. And he did. He got it so right.

  I lean over and kiss him. ‘I’ll get you something tomorrow. I’ll go to Dundrum.’

  ‘I’m grand. I don’t want anything.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’ll get you something anyway, sweetie.’ I say sweetie in an American accent, the way Angela from Bones says it. It’s kind of a thing we do.

  He smiles. ‘Well done on today.’ He pauses, then looks into my eyes. ‘You’re great, you know that?’ he says, hoarsely.

  My heart stops. Because this is so not like him. Oh, my God, could this be it, the moment he tells me he loves me?

  ‘I’ll go in with you,’ he says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘On Monday. I’ll go in with you to the TV studio.’

  ‘Oh.’ I try to hide my disappointment. ‘I don’t think you can. Only the cast are allowed on set.’

  ‘Oooh. Look at you, sounding all actory all of a sudden,’ he smiles.

  I smile back and tell myself it’s still the most perfect moment. I know he loves me. He doesn’t have to say it.

  TWO | Miles Finch

  ‘Die, bitchez,’ Jack is saying to the flat screen when I walk into the sitting room on Saturday night. His thumbs are pumping away on the Xbox controller. Looking at him, you wouldn’t know he was my brother, not to mind my twin. His hair is a weird colour - kind of like that red caramel toffee you sometimes get. His eyes are brown. Put it this way, Jack has never had a problem with the ladies.

  ‘I need to watch D4,’ I say.

  ‘What, now?’ he asks without taking his eyes from scenes of destruction.

  ‘Well, yeah. It’s on in like two minutes.’

  ‘Shite, Rache.’

  ‘It’s the last show before Monday and I have to see the characters and the story lines. I have to at least know what show I’m acting in.’

  ‘OK, chill. Let me just get these guys.’

  I sit on the arm of the couch and keep looking at him. So he feels the pressure. Jack has loved computers since we were two and we started in a Montessori that ran classes. When we were five, our older brother, Harry, got an Xbox that we weren’t allowed use. So Jack would wake me at six every morning and we’d sneak downstairs and play together. We even had ‘sneaky breakfasts’ of ice-cream or crisps or, if there was nothing else, normal food, like tomatoes. Jack got Harry to teach us the time so we’d have everything put away by seven when everyone else got up. I’m so tempted to forget D4 and just pick up the other controller and beat his ass. Not that I could. Any more.

  ‘Come on, Jack,’ I say. ‘It’s started.’

  ‘OK, OK.’ There’s about three minutes of all-out gunfire then, finally, with a sigh, he shuts down. ‘How long is it on for?’

  ‘I don’t know, half an hour?’

  He gets up and leaves.

  He's back two minutes later, his fist lost in a bag of tortilla chips. He collapses into an armchair, draping his legs over one of the arms, like his skeleton has melted.

  ‘Shh,’ I say.

  ‘What did I say?’

  ‘I’m trying to concentrate.’

  ‘So concentrate. I’m not stopping you.’

  ‘You’re munching.’

  Mistake. He munches out loud to annoy me.

  I grab the remote and turn the volume up. I block him from my peripheral vision.

  D4 is not hard to follow. It has the same formula as most medical shows. It follows the lives of the people working in a clinic and the medical stories of the patients. It’s actually not bad. I’ve always wanted to do medicine, so the stories are really interesting. It’d be good if the doctors were younger, though, like in Grey’s Anatomy. One of them starts talking about her son, Joe. I sit up. My first scene is with Joe. And there he is, with his girlfriend, Daisy. The couple I ‘come between’. They look too perfect.Like Barbie and Ken.

  ‘Hey,’ Jack says. He’s jumped up and is leaning forward like his skeleton has reformed. ‘Isn’t that Rebecca French?’

  My heart stops at the sound of her name. I can’t believe she still has that effect on me. I squint at the TV. And remember she was into drama.

  ‘Pause it,’ Jack says. He grabs the remote and pauses it himself. He walks up to the screen. ‘It’s definitely her. I’d know that ugly cow anywhere.’

  ‘She’s not ugly, Jack. In fairness.’

  ‘Trust me. She’s ugly. In every way that matters.’ He frowns at me. ‘Take no shit from her, OK?’

  ‘Jack, it was years ago. Stop freaking. We’re different people now.’ I have a life, friends, confidence. ‘Anyway, I probably won’t even get to meet her. My part is tiny.’ I look at her Barbie features and can’t help thinking that I’m glad I’m going to be a problem in her life. Even if it’s just onscreen.

  ‘People like that don’t change,’ he says.

  ‘I’m not afraid of Rebecca French.’

  I have one line. Doesn’t stop me practicing it in front of the mirror all weekend. There are so many ways of saying, ‘Have you got a light?’

  On Sunday, I check my timetable to see what subjects I’ll miss on Monday. Crap, Maths. I can’t fall behind in Maths, my worst subject. I read ahead and try a few exercises. I also read ahead inBiology and French. Then I have to escape. I’m not meant to be at Alex’s for another hour - but screw that.

  Her dad answers the door. He looks better since he stopped dying his hair and more normal generally since his band stopped touring. For a rock star, he’s pretty decent. He smiles hello.

  ‘They’re upstairs. Go on up.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah’s here already?’

  ‘No. Her brother is.’ His voice has turned to ice. And it doesn’t take a genius to work out why. Louis got his daughter pregnant.

  ‘I’ll just go up then,’ I say, embarrassed.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, sure, go on,’ he says, like he’s waking from a thought.

  Upstairs, there’s no one in Alex’s room except Homer, her golden retriever. I love Homer. And he’s been so good since Maggie came. Not one bit jealous. I smile, throw my bag down and go over to him.

  ‘Hey, Homey, how’s it going?’ I sit on the bed and ruffle his fur. He cuddles up to me. Aw.

  ‘Miles Finch,’ comes Alex’s voice from the bathroom, over the sound of the fan.

  ‘Easy. Elf,’ says Louis.

  ‘Yayo,’ says Alex.

  ‘Get Shorty.’

  What are they on about?

  ‘Ron Burgundy.’

  ‘Anchorman.’

  OOOK. So, now, I get it. Characters in movies.

  ‘There you go, Maggie. All done,’ Alex says.

  Seconds later, they appear, Alex carrying Maggie. They’d make such a cute family - if Louis was a family kind of guy.

  ‘Oh, hey,’ Alex says when she sees me. ‘When did you get here?’

  ‘Just now. Hello, baby,’ I say to Maggie, getting up and going to her. She is perfection in miniature. Alex hands her over. I smile down at her. She turns her head towards my boob and opens and closes her mouth like a little fish. Awkward.

  ‘She’s hungry,’ Alex says.

  ‘I should go,’ Louis says.

  ‘No. You’re feeding her, remember?’ Alex says.

  ‘It’s grand.’

  ‘You don’t have to go, Louis. Rachel doesn’t mind.’ Alex turns to me. ‘Do you Rache?’

  ‘God, no! I’m early anyway.’

  He doesn’t look at me. Ever. It’s as if he doesn’t like me. Or maybe he thinks I don’t like him. I don’t know, but there’s something.

  We go downstairs. Alex zaps a bottle and sits at the kitchen table. Louis feeds Maggie, smiling down at her while she sucks away, her eyes fixed on his. She looks so tiny in his arms.

  After a while, Alex’s dad walks into the kitchen. When he sees us, he looks like he wants to reverse b
ack out.

  ‘Hey, Dad,’ Alex says. ‘Look what Louis bought Maggie.’ She lifts up a box containing one of those mobiles you hang over cots to lull babies to sleep. Her dad nods. Then walks over to the fridge and takes out a Coke.

  ‘Come try it out,’ Alex says. I’m thinking she should leave it.

  Her dad looks like he’d rather eat slugs, but comes over anyway. Alex takes the mobile from the box and hands it to him. He twists a knob. Tiny dolphins start to turn as ‘Hush Little Baby’ tinkles. Alex’s dad nods and hands it back to her.

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Louis is into music,’ Alex says. ‘He’s in a band.’

  He looks at Louis, like he’s actually curious.

  ‘It’s not serious,’ Louis says. ‘We’re just fooling around.’

  A beat. Then Alex’s dad mumbles, ‘Seems to be your speciality.’

  ‘Oh, my God. Dad!’

  Louis raises his eyebrows.

  Her dad takes off, forgetting his Coke.

  Alex’s chair grates on the floor as she stands suddenly.

  ‘Leave it,’ Louis says.

  ‘No.’

  She takes off after her dad. Leaving me sitting at the table with Louis.

  He starts to make faces at Maggie, widening his eyes and opening and closing his mouth, making a ‘bop’ sound.

  I hear a door slam, then raised voices. I get up and go to the sink so Louis can have some privacy. I pour myself a glass of water and stand looking out the window, my back to him. He starts to sing softly to Maggie, ‘Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Papa’s going to buy you a mockingbird.’

  After a while, I hear Alex coming back. I stay where I am.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says to Louis.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he says.

  ‘Why did you say you were fooling around?’ She sounds frustrated. ‘You’re so not fooling around.’

  ‘The band’s just getting back together, Alex. We haven’t even started auditions for the new lead singer yet.’

  ‘That’s still not “fooling around”.’

  ‘Look. Whether or not I’m in a band isn’t going to make a difference to your father.’ He stands up, kisses Maggie’s forehead, smiles at her one last time, then passes her to Alex. He grabs his coat.

  ‘I gotta go.’

  As soon as he leaves, Alex, still holding Maggie, closes her eyes.

  ‘He’ll never come back now,’ she says quietly.

  ‘Course he will.’ I hope.

  ‘I can’t believe Dad. Louis’s been so good, coming to see Maggie every day, feeding her, buying her things. Why can’t he see that?’

  ‘He’s just upset, Ali. Louis did kind of mess things up.’

  ‘I messed things up.’

  ‘In fairness, Louis was nineteen. You were sixteen and you’d just split up with David.’ She was so lost. Louis should never have got involved. Alex didn’t even fancy him. Just kind of fell into the first pair of arms. He must have known that.

  ‘OK, I was a mess but I wasn’t retarded. The main thing is, Louis’s here now. Dad shouldn’t punish him for that.’

  ‘He’s probably just worried he won’t stay.’

  She looks at me.

  ‘He’s not exactly into relationships, Ali.’

  ‘He hasn’t had one with a baby.’

  I smile. ‘True.’

  ‘D’you know that today Louis asked me if it’d be OK to tell people he was Maggie’s dad. He thought I didn’t want anyone to know.’ She touches her heart. Then she frowns. ‘And now this. Thanks, Dad,’ she says sarcastically. Then her whole face brightens. ‘I know what I’m going to do.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Post a photo of Maggie and Louis on Facebook!’

  ‘Is that a good idea?’

  ‘What's wrong with it?’

  ‘Everyone in school thinks David’s Maggie’s dad,’ I explain.

  ‘Yeah. So now they’ll know the truth. Louis is her dad and I’m not ashamed of that.’

  ‘OK.’

  Not only does Alex post a photo, she tags it, ‘I love my dad.’

  They’re going to kill her. But she knows that. She closes the laptop and puts her arms out for Maggie. I pass her over. Alex looks down at her little face then up at me.

  ‘I want everything for Maggie, Rache. I especially want her to have a dad.’

  ‘I know.’ I want it for her too. But one day, he mightn’t turn up. And we should be prepared.

  ‘You think he’s a loser,’ she says.

  Loser. A word that still causes me to flinch. Especially when someone I love is using it so casually - like it means nothing.

  ‘No. I don’t.’

  ‘OK. You think he won’t hang around.’

  I’m not going to lie. ‘He’s been great, Ali. But maybe just take one day at a time, or something, for the moment,like.’

  She thinks about that then finally nods. ‘Yeah, OK.’ But she sounds depressed.

  ‘Maggie has so many people in her life, Alex. You, me, Sarah, your dad, Marsha.’ Marsha is Alex’s dad’s partner. She’s been quoted as saying, ‘I could eat Maggie up.’ And I get that.

  ‘I know. And that’s great.’ But her voice hangs in the air and we both know what’s missing, the certainty of a dad for Maggie.

  Sarah arrives and I pass Maggie to her. Maggie burps up a bit of milk onto Sarah’s top.

  ‘What? You’ve fed her without me?’

  ‘Sarah you can’t exactly hold off on a hungry baby,’ Alex says, dabbing Sarah’s top with a baby wipe.

  ‘OK but I’m changing her.’

  We don’t tell her that Maggie’s already been changed. Just watch her take the nappy off. I love that she’s so obsessed. That she has something to be obsessed about.

  ‘Eh, Alex?’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your eyebrows?’

  Her hand goes to them. ‘Oh God. I forgot.’

  One’s plucked. The other isn’t.

  ‘I was doing them when Maggie woke.’

  ‘Come on.’

  We go upstairs. Before she gets distracted, I put the tweezers in her hand and stand her in front of the mirror. When she’s done, we shoo her into the shower. Then, Sarah blow-dries her hair. It’s not that Alex doesn’t have help with Maggie. She just wants to do everything herself, be the best mum she can.

  Later, I take them through some of the stuff they’ve been missing at school. But neither of them is concentrating. And I’m so tired of studying that we give up and just chill. We go on Facebook and post some pictures of Maggie. On Twitter, Maggie says: ‘Yawn.’ We go onto the Ikea website and pick out more baby stuff for Alex’s room. We watch some clips on YouTube. Monkeys actually share. So cute.

  After a while, Alex’s eyelids start to get heavy. Luckily, she’s lying on the bed. Soon, she’s out. She even starts to drool. We cover her up. Tonight, a night nurse is starting so she doesn’t have to wake up to feed Maggie anymore. I still can’t believe she’s back at school tomorrow after only two weeks. But it’s what she wants - not to miss anything. To be normal. Who knows, maybe it’ll be good to give the mum stuff a break, be herself again, just a teenager with her whole life ahead of her.

  For a guy, Mark has weird taste in movies. He likes all the Will Ferrell stuff, which is normal, and The Hangover. But he’s not into action stuff. Or violence. Or end-of-the-world movies. He likes real-life stories. Like The Descendants.

  Sunday night, his parents are out and we watch it on his couch - him sitting, me lying with my head on his lap. He’s running his hand over my hair, absent-mindedly. The movie is amazing but so freaking sad because it makes me think of Sarah being left behind. As soon as it’s over, I sit up.

  ‘I’m worried about Sarah.’

  He looks surprised. ‘She’s doing great.’

  ‘Can a person be too great?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘When her mum died, Alex was in bits. Don’t you think it’s weird that Sarah’s so …
up?’ I’d die without Mark.

  ‘Rache, you’re worried because she’s coping.’

  I think a bit about that. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ I say finally.

  ‘Caecilius semper iustus est.’ He pauses. Then translates, ‘Caecilius is always right.’

  I smile and lie back down.

  He twists a strand of my hair around my ear. I bat him away and sit up again.

  ‘They’re going to kill Alex at school, tomorrow.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s posted on Facebook that Louis is Maggie’s dad.’

  For a minute, he says nothing. Then: ‘Rachel. If Sarah and Alex knew how much you worried about them, they’d… worry.’

  ‘We all worry about each other.’

  ‘No. It’s like you worry for them - so they don’t have to.’

  ‘They’re my friends.’ When I moved to Strandbrook and needed friends more than anything, they were there. They treated me like I was normal, not infected. A human being. They actually liked me - though it took a while to trust that. I’ve never told them - or anyone that I’d been bullied - when you get a break, you take it. You leave the shame behind. You don’t give people a reason to look at you and say, ‘Oh, yeah,’ and for it all to start up again. The weird thing now is that they think I’m the strong one, the one with all the answers, the guru. I’ve no clue how that happened.

  At two in the morning, I’m lying awake. Part of me is totally buzzed that, after thirteen years of dreaming, I’ve finally got a chance. The other part is afraid I’ll blow it. I tell myself that I’ve only one line. But that just makes it worse. Everything’s banking on that one line. And what about tomorrow? Do I wear make-up or not? If I do, they might have to take it off to put on their own. If I don’t wear any, they’ll have to put it on. Like I’m a baby. What if I don’t fit in? What if I’m the outsider again? And what about Rebecca French? Do I need to worry? God, it would be so much easier not to do this. But that’s not a good enough reason to give up on a dream.