Butterfly Kisses (The Butterfly Chronicles #2)

by Unknown

  “This is awesome,” I say as I lean in and touch the leather steering wheel.

  “Thanks, Lacey. I just got it today, Mike says as he pushes dark brown hair out of his eyes. He looks so much like Chase, older and rugged around the edges, but they stand the same way and have the same body language and expressions. Chase drapes his arm over my shoulder loosely so he won’t get me dirty, but I nudge away. After the conversation with Jade and Tasha, I don’t want to have to analyze every move we make together and wonder what it means. He looks at me concerned, or maybe a little hurt, but it passes as another guy raises the hood to look at the engine. They start talking about horses and pistons, and I’m lost. I tell Chase I’ll see him later and go to my car. I get halfway across the parking lot when he jogs up behind me and walks me the rest of the way to my car.

  “Evan thinks we can still get a limo, but apparently Tasha is doing something solo with her date.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks down at the ground.

  “I’d actually rather it just be us if that’s OK?” I ask, taking him by surprise.

  “Yeah, actually that’s fine, cool.” He gives me half smirk and then jogs backwards toward the rest of the guys still admiring under the hood with his dad. I wave him off and get into my car to head home.

  Lana

  From the road I can see the orange glow from the bondfire behind the small farmhouse. A huge barn and cornfields surround the large-acre yard. We pull down the long gravel driveway, and Britt pulls in front of the old barn at the end of a line of about eight cars. I climb out of her deathtrap as she lights a cigarette by her back bumper. We walk to the backyard together where a lot of kids sitting in a circle around the fire in canvas folding chairs or coupled on long logs. Todd is standing by a folding table with food and drinks on it. He makes a B-line for us. My breath quickens.

  “You said he’d be working,” I scowl at Britt. She smiles at me mischievously before she takes a long drag on her cigarette.

  “He likes you. Go with it,” she finally says as she slowly exhales her smoke. She reminds me of a dragon as smoke seeps out of the corners of her mouth.

  “You made it,” Todd grins widely. I shrug and shove my hands into my hoodie pockets. “Hungry? Thirsty?” I shake my head and look longingly down the driveway, wanting to escape. “Herb?” he asks as he pulls out his cigarette pack. That confuses me, and I tilt my head and look at him. He produces a hand-rolled cigarette. Oh. I shake my head. That’s all I need to do, start getting high. He looks disappointed and shrugs. “Grab a chair I’ll be back in a few.” I didn’t realize Britt left us to go stand by Jake near the side of the old worn barn and is watching us. He lumbers over to them, and they disappear into darkness moving toward the old grey farm house. I go to the fire. It’s warm. I recognize only a few faces in the crowd. All the chairs are taken, so I sit on the corner of a log while a guy kisses a girl in his lap on the other end. I look around and see a few people looking at me.

  A girl in the canvas chair beside me leans over and asks quietly. “You’re Lana Baxter right?” her hair is slicked back in a ponytail, and she isn’t wearing any makeup, but she needs it. Her skin is blotchy, oily, and covered in acne. The old me would tell her something about it, but I don’t. She’s wearing jeans and a few layers, the last one an oversized leather jacket. I want desperately to take her to the mall, but I only nod. “That’s what I thought,” she smiles widely at me just before she turns her attention across the fire and says, “I told you it was the girl who slit her wrists. She hangs out with Britt all the time.” I look down at my knees. My face is the shade of burgundy, my eyes the size of saucers, and I want to disappear. I take a deep breath and look up; everyone is staring at me. “Can I see your scars?” she asks loudly enough for everyone to hear as an ugly grin spreads across her face. I can’t help it. I give her my “you are not worthy of looking at me let alone speaking to me so get lost” look, and she blanches. Then my focus shifts, and I see right through her as I rise and walk toward the cars parked by the barn. She clears her throat and says something with a trembling voice that I don’t care to try to make out. This was a mistake. I’m always going to be “the girl who slit her wrists.” I look down at my arms and raise my sleeve. The scars are fading. I quickly pull my sleeve down when I hear laughing. It’s really dark now, and I can’t see who it is, but I hear them. I still myself and wait. Britt, Jake, and Todd emerge into the glow of the fire.

  “Lana, what’s wrong?” Britt asks. Her concern is evident; however, her giggle fit immediately following isn’t appreciated.

  “I need to go home,” I say and look back at the fire. The girl in the canvas chair is still watching me.

  “We just got here; the party is about to start,” Britt complains.

  “It’s OK; you stay. I can call my sister or someone,” I say as I glance at my phone.

  “Don’t call your sister! She hates me,” Britt whines. Todd takes my reluctant hand in his and begins running his thumb over mine. I cringe, but I am too overwhelmed to pull away. Chase is probably with Lacey. The only other phone number of someone worth calling who might rescue me is Tomas. I cringe a little thinking about it. He probably wouldn’t be too happy that I’ve gotten myself into this situation. As I’m contemplating this, I don’t realize that Todd has led me to the refreshment table and is pouring some vodka and cranberry juice into a red cup. He hands it to me, and absentmindedly I drink it. I don’t flinch when I sip it which I think impresses him because his eyebrows raise. I take my phone from my back pocket and type a message.

  Hey.

  “Why do you want to leave?” Todd leans in with a flirty smile on his face, but it has no effect on me.

  Hey, what are you doing? Tomas responds immediately. I text back as Todd watches me.

  I’m at a party and need a ride home. I didn’t know if you were close.

  Leaving my cousin’s house text me the address. I do, and then I turn my attention back to Todd, who is standing patiently beside me.

  “Everyone here knows who I am,” I say, looking back at the fire. Canvas chair chick is still watching me, or maybe us. I take a gulp of a drink and wince a little this time as it goes down. I roll my lips and look back up at him unsure. He’s watching my lips, and I feel a blush chasing my cheeks.

  “Just stay a little while,” he says leaning in. I look over at Britt. She’s sitting by canvas chair chick now, where I was sitting a few minutes ago. Britt seems to be giving her attitude, too. Maybe she’s defending my honor.

  “A little while,” I concede softly, and he leads me over to the fire. I squeeze between Britt and Todd and the PDA couple on the other end of the log.

  “I thought this was just a senior party,” canvas chair chick says, continuing a conversation we hadn’t heard.

  “When you host, you can invite who you want. Jake said I could bring her, so lax,” Britt says patronizingly as she rolls her eyes at me. Todd puts his arm on the back of the log behind me. I stare into the fire sipping my drink as the rest of the party disappears, counting off in my head until Tomas will arrive. It is taking too long, and Todd keeps scooting closer to me, causing me to scoot closer to the PDA couple.

  When the counting in my head reaches 1,899, canvas chair chick exclaims, “Who invited a sophomore?” as she glares toward the driveway. “This night just keeps getting better and better.” She gets up and goes toward the house huffing in disgust. We all turn around and see Tomas walking toward us. His face darkens, and he looks at me sternly; his eyebrows knit together, and his usually relaxed demeanor stiffens. I quickly push Todd’s arms away from me and stand. Tomas puts his hands into his military jacket and continues staring at me; it’s unnerving. I stumble toward him, and his eyes widen as he moves toward me in anticipation of catching me.

  “What is this asshole doing here?” Todd swears right behind me. I didn’t realize he had followed me.

  “Apparently running a taxi service,” Tomas glares, squaring his shoulders. I shift on my fe
et and almost topple over. Both boys reach for me, but I let Tomas hold me upright. This seems to relax him a little. “Are you ready?” he asks me softly. I nod.

  “So that’s it?” Todd asks me disbelievingly.

  “I’ll see you around,” I say lamely, looking down at my cons, knowing he’s glaring at me. I can feel his eyes burning through me.

  “Not likely,” he says and turns away back to the fire.

  “Bye, Lana,” Britt calls whimsically from her seat as an afterthought.

  “Yeah-yeah,” I say, and let Tomas lead me toward his truck. On the drive to my house he doesn’t look at me, and his fingers grip the wheel until his knuckles are almost white. He only acknowledges my directions with a head nod. I watch stripes of light pass over his stoic face as we pass under each street light. He has a beautiful face with moles sprinkled here and there on his neck. I want to touch his skin. I’d bet that it’s really soft, but I hold back. Even tipsy I think that’s a bad idea, but I continue to watch his profile. We ride along in silence, and I lean my face against the cool glass trying to gain my bearings. When we turn onto my street, Tomas pulls up to the curb two houses down. He takes a deep breath, the kind of breath that says “we need to talk” or “you’re not going to like what I’m about to say” or both. My breath catches in my constricting throat as I read the word AIRBAG over and over silently.

  “You’re drunk,” he seethes through clenched teeth. I hug my arms around me. “All that douche wants is to get in your pants, and I’m the idiot who seems to keep running to your beacon call.”

  “You’re not an idiot,” I defend in a small voice, but I can’t look at him. I can’t stand the way he’s looking at me. So disappointed. I open the door because I just want to escape his censure, and I almost fall out. I catch my balance just as he yells my name and reaches for me across the seat. I look at him and notice a flash of fear in his eyes. I slam his door shut and stagger toward my house, but he’s suddenly by my side. I try to ignore him as I stumble haughtily down the sidewalk and up the walkway to the stairs. When I reach the porch, I freeze. I hear voices, loud and angry.

  “You told me it was over!” my mom wails. I hear the tortured pain in her voice and can picture her eyes puffy and red.

  “Why were you going through my phone?” my dad booms.

  “Because I can’t trust you! I can’t do this anymore,” she screeches, and I hug myself again, trying to make myself small. I slump against the wall and slide down on the porch. With my knees pulled in against me I want to disappear. I should not be hearing this fight, this moment so private.

  “You think I want this? I want you, but you only want to argue. You never touch me, and you lock me out of our room.” They sound to be near the front door, and I watch their shadows move across the beveled glass door. I hear them stomping up the stairs, and my eyes begin to pool.

  “Let’s go,” Tomas breathes into my ear, making my hair tickle my neck. I hadn’t realized he squatted beside me. His arms are around me. He helps me stand up, wraps his arm around my waist, and leads me down the stairs toward his car. I lean into him and let him be strong for me. He lets out a deep breath as I feel his hand tighten against my hip.

  “I have to go to bed,” I say as he opens the door to his truck. He chuckles and pushes my back silently urging me to climb in. All the anger is gone from his voice. His laughter is calming, and I can almost imagine I didn’t just hear my parent’s marriage falling apart. I oblige, and he shuts the door. He walks around the truck and climbs in. Again we drive in silence. I can’t take my eyes off my hands in my lap. We drive out of town along country roads until ten minutes later when he turns into a cast iron, gated driveway and turns off his lights as he drives slowly up a paved hill. We pull up to a large brick ranch home, though I can’t see much except for the large, lit-up front window. He parks his truck in front of the garage, and we sit there for a minute.

  “There are three windows along that side of the house. I need you to go to my bedroom window. It’s the second one down from the corner. He points, and my eyes follow the shape of the house until it disappears into darkness. He continues, “I have to go inside and talk to my parents, but as soon as I can, I’ll be there to let you in, OK. Just wait till I’m inside before you go over there.”

  “I can’t stay here,” I say, my eyes wide.

  “Where else are you going to stay, Britt’s? You can’t go home. You’re drunk, your parents are fighting, and like you said, you’re exhausted.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I say as I see shadows move across the lit window.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he says confidently. I look at him closely. His eyes stare hard at the light escaping the window, and his jaw is set as a cocky smirk touches the corner of his lips. I wonder what he’s not telling me. “Just go to where I told you to, OK?” he says gently, his eyes softening as he turns to looks at me. I nod. He gets out, and I watch him approach the large wooden double doors. He looks back at me one last time before he takes a deep breath and opens the door. I open the door to his truck and climb out. As I pass the window and front door I hear voices: Tomas’, a woman’s, and a lower man’s voice. They sound conversational, calm. I’m tempted to approach the door closer and listen to the words, but I don’t. I go around the house and find the second window just before the privacy fence. I stuff my hands into my hoodie pocket. The grass is slick from the cool night settling moistly on everything. A shiver rocks me, and I stiffen my arms against myself trying to conserve my heat. The seconds tick like minutes. I survey the yard around me. A small forest of older trees surround me and bushes, flowers and mulch line the edge of the house.

  My legs are tired, and Thinking about my parents, I begin to pace. I don’t want them to fight anymore. I wish I didn’t know what I do about my dad. I feel a little relief knowing that at least my mom knows what’s going on, but then again how could she not know? He’s a completely different person now. I hate him. I hate my mom for still being with him after she knows what he did, what he’s still doing. I hate myself for keeping this from Lacey. They are peas, she and Dad, and she deserves to know he’s a liar. I sit down under Tomas’ window in the mulch. It’s really wet, and instantly I’m soaked to my skin. I put my head in my hands. I hate myself for letting things get so far with Todd. Though I’m pretty sure any ideas he had of us are squashed now. I hate myself for what I’m feeling about Tomas. I don’t deserve to be happy. I wish I could just disappear. A small warning alarm goes off in the back of my skull. This is not how I’m supposed to be thinking, but it’s hard to hear through the fog of the alcohol. I rake my hands through my hair, gripping it in fists. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home and disappear under my covers. Maybe if I went home, my parents wouldn’t fight. I lean my head against the cool brick and close my eyes, imagining things were different. I’d never have gone over to Chris’s house last year with Amanda. I’d still be running my grade. I wouldn’t cut. But would I be happy? I frown. I’d probably never give Tomas the time of day, or Britt for that matter. I’d still not be able to stand Lacey and be embarrassed that she’s my sister. I don’t want to be that person anymore. Being her was easy. It’s being me that’s hard. I pull my legs up to my chest and hug them, settling in more. It feels good to have my eyes closed. I feel like I did when I was four and didn’t want to face something, like being punished for being naughty. I’d close my eyes, thinking if I couldn’t see the world then it couldn’t see me. No one can see me now. I begin to wonder how much better everyone would be if I’d succeeded in my suicide attempt. I’m the root of all of my family’s problems. It’s all my fault. I don’t hear the window open, but I hear Tomas say my name. I look up at him still lost in my thoughts. He smiles a thin smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he reaches out his hands to me. I take them, and he pulls me to my feet. I climb in and stand in a large room. It has a bed in the corner under another window and shelves along his walls near the ceiling. He has lots of mod
el cars, and planes, books, stacks of comics, and DVDs. His walls are tan and brown. There’s a desk and computer in the corner, a chest of drawers by his open closet, and a dresser with a mirror along one wall. I look at my disheveled reflection. Note to self: stop drinking you look awful when you do. Tomas chuckles behind me. I look at him, confused. He points at my butt, as his smile broadens.

  “You’re muddy.” I spin and look at my backside as a blush rushes to my neck and cheeks. It’s not just wet. My hoodie, shirt, and jeans are black and wet. I look at him horrified, and instantly his expression changes. He goes to his chest of drawers, and pulls out a T-shirt and boxers and holds them toward me.

  “Do you have anything long-sleeved?” I ask as I fist my hands into my hoodie sleeves. He looks at me confused a for moment, and then at my arms. I hid them behind me. He nods and puts the T-shirt back and grabs another T-shirt.

  “You can go in there.” He points to his closet. I walk toward it as he flips on the light. Shelves of sweaters, hoodies, blankets and shoe boxes fill the back wall. On both sides of me are rails of jeans, dress slacks, and button-up shirts, a rainbow of plaids, stripes, and solid colors. This kid may have more clothes than I do. He smiles shyly, observing me as I run my fingers along a row of shirts. It smells like fabric softener in here. He shuts the door behind me, and I peel off my clothes. I leave my underwear on even though it’s wet. I put on the boxers and roll them once to keep them at my hips. They barely cover the faded scars on the top of my thighs. I put on the long-sleeved shirt just before I pick up my clothes and fold them. My hands keep getting lost in the sleeves of this shirt that is almost as long on me as the boxers. My heart races as I think about coming out in front of him this exposed. I feel vulnerable, naked even. I take a deep breath and grip my clothes to my chest as I turn the knob. There’s a knock at his door, and I freeze with the door cracked. I hear him race across the room to the closet and hit the light and then his bedroom door opens. I move the door a touch more so I can try to see out, but I can’t.