Mia Castile - [The Butterfly Chronicles 02]

by Butterfly Kisses (epub)

  “Who’s Tomas?” I ask.

  “This new kid; he’s a sophomore, Hispanic, really nice.” My eyes must widen to the size of saucers. How come I haven’t heard of this new Hispanic, sophomore boy named Tomas?

  “Do you like him?” I ask, completely obvious. Her face darkens, and she looks away.

  “No, he’s just a friend,” she rushes and fidgets.

  “Hmmm,” I tease, wiggling my eyebrows at her.

  “Seriously, he doesn’t like me, and I don’t like him. It’s nice to have a friend.” I remember her telling me how she felt like a third wheel with Tasha, Jade, and me. At least he’s not Britt.

  “So is he your Valderama?” I push, teasing in my voice; Lana is still addicted to re-runs of That 70’s Show.

  “Wha—No!” she exclaims and throws a pillow at me. I catch it but almost fall off her bed doing so. I recover nicely, if I do say so myself, and stretch out across the bottom of her bed and fill her in on my weekend since we haven’t talked since last week. She laughs at my description of Emily, totally picking up on my jealousy, which launches us into a whole analysis and deconstruction of my friendship with Chase. What does every conversation, touch, and look mean? She swears we’re meant to be together, but I’m not so sure. I begin to feel inadequate again and tell her so because really we’re that close now. I love this intimacy that she and I share. Secrets, hopes, and feelings. She doesn’t judge me for being neurotic because, as she says, “I’ve seen her on the inside.” I think it’s kind of gross, but also kind of cool.

  Lana

  They got their revenge. I was dragged into the office of our Principal’s office, Dr. Patterson, and was suspended for three days for threatening Amanda. The only satisfaction I got was that Amanda was in-school suspended for one day too. I’m just glad that I get to hang out at home. They didn’t really believe Tomas and me that we didn’t start anything with her, that she was instigating. Oh well, I, at least, got to sleep in. I give myself a home-spa day, soaking in Epson salts and rose petal bubble bath until I’m wrinkly while my hair is in a deep-conditioning treatment. Then I treat myself to a mani-pedi. I have sporadic continual conversations with Britt and Tomas via text all day. It’s kind of cool to be talking to him this much, but he still hasn’t accepted my Status Quo friend request. Other than that, I spend most of the afternoon on the couch watching daytime talk shows and reality TV. I make myself some ramen noodles and clean up the kitchen from my day of nonchalance before my dad gets home. I escape to my room a half hour before he comes in. I don’t want to deal with him, but I as I lie on my stomach across my bed reading a magazine, I hear a knock on the door. I rush to put in my ear buds and hit play on my playlist as he cracks open the door. I ignore him standing in the doorway pretend that I didn’t hear him knock. He clears his throat as I continue looking down like I’m reading. He walks into my room and stands at the foot of the bed. Finally, I look up and his arms are crossed as he just stands there staring at me. I slowly pull the ear buds out of my ears and look at him innocently.

  “How was your day today?” He asks, straining to sound calm. My dad and I have never connected like he and Lacey do. I think it’s the geek in them that connects them.

  “OK,” I say as I sit up by the head of the bed and put distance between us.

  “What did you do?” This conversation is painful, like pulling teeth. But he stands there, almost patiently, almost.

  “Stuff,” I say, pushing his buttons with non-answers. He lets out a deep breath and looks up at the ceiling.

  “I know this past six months have been really challenging for us, but you’ve got to get your head together.” I glare at him. “This.” He motions between us. “Is not working,” he says firmly. I continue to glare, pursing my lips together. I’m silent to keep from saying what I want, calling him filthy names, and screaming in his face, so I purse my lips tighter. “I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

  I feel the implosion inside of me. In my mind, time stands still as he stares at me, and I step out of myself and scream at the top of my lungs, grabbing my hair at the roots. “I HATE YOU FOR DESTROYING OUR FAMILY. I HATE YOU FOR CHEATING ON MOM. I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!” I stomp my feet, push him, and smack him across his face. But that doesn’t happen. Instead, I stare at him. We stare at each other for what feels like forever but is probably more like thirty seconds.

  Finally, he shakes his head at me and turns to leave. Just before he closes the door, he turns to me one last time to say, “This isn’t a vacation. Your mom will leave you a list of chores for tomorrow.” He shuts the door behind him as my head hits my headboard, and I look at the ceiling. I don’t even realize I’ve reached for a pen sitting on my end table and digging it into my palm until I feel the relief. I look down and terror suddenly flashes through me. It literally travels from my head to my arms, hands, legs, feet, and out of me. I drag my chair to my door, propping it under the knob, and go to my window to raise it. I know what I have to do to calm down.

  The next morning when I rise, the house is quiet and empty. I decide to blow off the list of chores waiting for me on the kitchen counter and put on my bikini to lay out. I pull my hair up into a messy bun, brush my teeth, and head to the back deck. It’s practically fall, and there won’t be many more days for sunning. My parents are closing the pool in less than two weeks. I go to the backyard with my iPod and bask in the morning sun. I almost feel like all is right with the world and last spring didn’t happen. I fall asleep on my stomach and am awakened suddenly by the doorbell. I don’t know how long I’ve slept until I look at my iPod and see it’s been an hour. I’m going to have to spend the same amount of time on my back to even that out. The doorbell rings again. I rise, put my sunglasses on top of my head, and throw on a thin white long-sleeved jersey T-shirt hoodie. I go through the house to the front door to find Macy Emmits at my door. I wonder what she wants. I open the door but don’t say anything. She shifts on her feet as she surveys me. Her eyes pause at my legs; I should have put shorts on.

  “Hi, I wanted to check in on you. It’s pretty crazy how Amanda is, well, crazy,” she chuckles and gives me a nervous smile.

  “Do you want to come in?” I ask, not sure really why. I mean it’s not like we ever hung out. But she nods. We go up to my room, and I go inside my closet and put on some sweat shorts. When I come out I realize it’s 1:00 pm. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask as she wanders around my room looking from trinkets on my dresser to pictures hanging on my walls.

  “Do you remember that slumber party you had in the fifth grade, and we played light as a feather stiff as a board on your floor here?” I smile because we tried to lift Trina Shank because she was the heaviest of all of us, and if anything would make believers out of us, that would. Afterwards I berated her for being heavy even though she really wasn’t that big. She throws up after lunch every day now. I should apologize to her. “That was the last time we all hung out. Well, we did at school, but the next year we rarely talked or anything.” She looks out my window to the street. “I’m here you know, if you want to ever, like, talk or anything.” And I shift on my feet, suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Why? I’m now the psycho at school,” I ask, gripping my elbow in front of me.

  “No, even on your worst day there’s a lot worse kids out there. Have you seen Trina lately? She takes being a scene kid to a whole new level. I’m not sure she understands the concept.” Macy looks at me and cuts a smile. We both break out into laughter. “Last year, I didn’t even know all that you were going through. I mean, I heard the rumors, but I didn’t know what to think. I mean you always had this air, this confidence. You still do; that’s why no one approaches you. But I didn’t think you were the type of girl that needed boys’ approval to be popular.” She sits down in my chair, and I cross the room and sit on my bed.

  “I’m not really sure what happened myself. I just know I couldn
’t handle all the rumors, all the lies, and the way everyone acted. I’d never been shunned like that. It was alien to me.” She nods like she understands, but I know she doesn’t. No one can unless they’ve been through it.

  “I have to tell you,” she pauses and looks out the window again. “I feel like I should apologize because everyone treated you like you had an STD, and though I never spread the rumors or was mean to you, I didn’t stand up for you either. Danni and I were talking the other day, and decided we should let you know that we’re sorry, and we’re both glad you didn’t actually die.” Her hands are red from ringing them. Danni is her best friend. She’s a lot like Macy. They skate and mix in boy clothes with their own. Danni has long brown hair that she almost always braids when it’s not wavy. I could totally see her becoming a model or something; she just looks like a surfer chick. I want to tell Macy it’s OK or thank her for recognizing that I was wronged. But there’s a lump in my throat, and my eyes feel glassy. Macy looks back at me and asks quietly, “Can you forgive me?” The tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it, and I nod as I briskly wipe it away, hoping she didn’t see. “Cool,” she says, letting out a deep breath.

  After a long, awkward moment, we start talking about school, everyone, gossiping a little even, and she, too, asks me about Tomas. Lacey really grilled me the other night. I tell her that we are just friends as my phone goes off in my hoodie pocket. I pull it out, and see that it’s a text from Tomas asking how my house arrest is going. My face instantly reddens, and she begins to laugh.

  Lacey

  At work on Thursday evening, we’re on our own. Henry, Byron, and I are manning the floor while Jessica is in the back room. The guys are doing a good job of ignoring me most of the night, which is fine. I’m keeping busy checking out customers. Byron is manning the other cash register, and Henry is working the floor, helping customers find movies and stocking the shelves. Melanie Harris comes in, and Byron says, “Hey, Melanie, welcome to The Video Shack.” She smiles and waves at him. I finish checking out some customers and put their DVDs in a bag.

  “Those are due back by Saturday by midnight,” I remind the couple, and they smile at me. Melanie makes a B-line for Henry, and they begin talking. She, of course, rests her hand on his arm, picks a non-existent piece of lint from the shoulder of his dress shirt, and then touches his newly cut, short styled hair. He smiles and charms her even more, making me want to gag. He can turn it on and off so fast it gives me whiplash. And now that I see even clearer what he’s capable of, I’m so grateful to be out from under his spell. Byron glances their way too as he tries to appear busy moving things around the counter. Then he looks over at me, annoyed when he realizes I’ve been watching him. “If you want to go talk to them, I can handle up here,” I say, as I re-stack our advertisement flyers by the candy display.

  “No, it’s OK.” But he glances over at them again. He continues glances at them, and I wonder if he likes Melanie. I mean, what’s not to like? She’s super skinny, like model skinny, and has blond streaked hair, a dark tan, and she wears tight designer clothes. She competes in beauty pageants and carries herself gracefully. If I were a dude, I’d probably like Melanie Harris.

  It’s weird how people come in sporadically but inevitably check out at the same time. We check out the rush as Melanie comes up to Byron’s station to check out. They make small talk while he scans her selections, and all the tension he had earlier from watching her with Henry is gone. She says goodbye to him and then turns to me and says, “See you later, Lacey.” This totally catches me off guard, and I smile and stutter, “See you.” Those are the first words she’s said to me since seventh grade when I fell into Stacey Gibson’s pool by accident at her Memorial Day party, and then she only said, “How embarrassing! I would die if that happened to me.” I smirk and finish entering the new member I just signed up in the computer. I glance over at Byron and realize he’s still glancing at Henry the way he was when Melanie was talking to him. Then it hits me. It wasn’t Melanie he was looking at like that; it was Henry. Byron has a thing for Henry. No way, that can’t be. But he is looking at Henry that longing way, and if it’s true, then that means the Byron is . . . gay. This could be farfetched, but I look from Henry, who is making his way to the back room, and to Byron watching him. My eyes are wide with recognition. That’s how I used to look at Henry. Byron cuts his eyes to me. How could I have never seen this before?

  “What?” he asks venomously.

  “Nn-no-thing,” I stammer, my brain barely accepting this realization.

  “Seriously, you look like you just figured out the theory of relativity or something.” And I laugh, uncontrollably and loudly, because he doesn’t even know. Once I calm myself down, I avoid his glare. I move to the movie returns and begin checking them in. There’s a pretty full bin here, and I hope it will keep me busy, but Byron watches me now, closely, leaning his arms on the counter.

  After I’m halfway through the box and can’t take his stare anymore, I turn to look him in the eyes. I glance around quickly for Henry who’s now standing in the farthest corner from us putting the rest of the movies away before I look back at him and say, “You don’t have to worry, I won’t say anything to anyone.” His eyes knit together in his confusion.

  “About what?”

  “About your thing for Henry,” I whisper, glancing at Henry to make sure he hasn’t heard us. Byron shoots up, standing straight as his eyes widen and then narrow. I realize my suspicion is right because his face turns red. I’ve never affected Byron in any way to make him blush.

  “Shut up freak.” He returns to his register, and I return to checking in the DVDs. Henry comes toward the counter oblivious to the conversation between Byron and me seconds ago and begins straightening the candy shelves. Byron shoots me a warning look, but I just continue in my task.

  I am already in a foul mood when I meet Tasha and Jade at J.C. Penny’s to go dress shopping on Friday. Not only am I cutting it ridiculously close for finding a dress, but Mr. Clancy gave me a C- on my interpretation of Longfellow’s “The Nameless Grave”. I spoke of regret for not honoring the soldier more, wondering about his battle and what claimed his life, and then the thankfulness that comes with realizing someone loved my country and my freedom enough to give his life for it. I’m not sure what he was expecting my take to be on a poem so patriotic, but apparently it wasn’t even worthy of a plain ole’ C. This guy was seriously going to ruin my GPA. The only bright points of my day were getting to see Chase at our locker. I missed the comfort of seeing him all day long any time I wanted. When he saw my C-, he offered to toilet paper Mr. Clancy’s house for me, which was a sweet gesture, but knowing Mr. Clancy he’d have security cameras up at his house or send the toilet paper off for fingerprints. When I met Jade and Tasha, they were giggly and uber-happy, which was super annoying. I perused the already-picked-over dresses, not really finding much. Jade had a hand full of dresses and Tasha’s arms were overflowing. They went to try them on, and I still looked. Then I saw it—the perfect dress. It was on a mannequin, and I circled it, knowing this was the one. When I went back to the racks, though, it was nowhere to be seen. I found a saleslady and asked her if she knew where the dress was. She helped me look before she went to the back room.

  Jade and Tasha find me staring at the dress, waiting for the saleslady. Tasha has a beautiful coral dress, but Jade hasn’t found anything. They both look at the dress on the mannequin and agree it’s perfect. The saleslady returns but says that sadly they only ordered a handful of the dresses, and the one on the mannequin is the last one. She asks my size, and I tell her “4” as she steps up on the platform and checks the tag on the dress. She smiles at me and unzips the dress.

  “We’re changing the display this weekend anyway.” I thank her and take the dress to the dressing room to try it on. It fits perfectly. I step out and show my friends. They grin from ear to ear.

  “Chase won’t
be able to take his eyes off you in that dress.” Jade smiles as I twirl in front of the three-view mirror.

  “Or anything else,” Tasha giggles to Jade.

  “What are you two idiots rambling about?” I ask, shaking my head, fighting the red creeping up my neck.

  “I just wouldn’t be surprised if you confess your undying love to him,” Tasha tries to say with a straight face. Then she turns to Jade. “We’ve been through so much together. You were there for me through a really tough time in my life, and I feel so close to you now.” She cups her hands over her heart and looks into Jade’s eyeswith puppy dog eyes and mock swooning. Is this how I supposedly act around him? I’m a bit disturbed that she’s trivializing the trauma of my sister almost dying and being shunned by the entire school, not to mention the total rejection of my lifelong crush.

  “I know, for me too, so much so that I lie awake at nights thinking of ways to be there for you. I write you songs and hold you every chance I get,” Jade says in a deep voice that’s supposed to be Chase’s. She takes Tasha’s hand, and Tasha looks away shyly giggling more. “Here, I wrote this for you: Roses are red; so is your face; Can I suck on your lips? I bet they taste great.” My hands are in fists. “What, too soon?” Jade asks innocently as she drops Tasha’s hand and looks at me pointedly. Tasha tries to look apologetic, but it doesn’t help that she’s fighting laughter so hard her eyes are watering. My face is hot and probably red with anger, and I glare at them. Right now I regret confiding in them anything about Chase and me. I regret telling them about the kiss we shared last spring or how much he means to me.

  “You guys are just jealous because you don’t know what it’s like to have someone as amazing as Chase in your life and connect with him on a level beyond anything else,” I say as I shove past them.