Nobody's Butterfly

by Claire Davis

  “Ten minutes.”

  Heat, cold, excitement and Finn filled the air and Johnny’s head. Afterwards, he wouldn’t be sure who went first, but pretty soon he was pushed up against the other boy. He let his lips touch Finn’s. He laughed, Finn laughed, and then he went back and did it again. He was aware of Finn putting arms around him, and then letting them drop by his sides.

  “Why have you closed your eyes?” Finn asked. “Where do our arms go?”

  “I don’t know. It’s what they do on TV. Let’s try again.” He kissed with eyes open. Seeing Finn so close was funny and ridiculous. “It’s because it makes you go cross-eyed,” he guessed. Finn snorted.

  “It’s a bit weird.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat on the drums and ate Wagon Wheels. “Do they kiss actually throughout the sex?” Finn asked thoughtfully. “Because it stops you having to look at the other person.” He chewed. “I had wondered before. But since meeting you, I wonder a lot of stuff. You’ve gone red.”

  “So have you.” Inside, Johnny shone so brightly that probably astronomers thousands of miles away thought he was a star.

  “I don’t mind if we kiss sometimes. I mean if you want to?” Finn poked Johnny’s foot with his own. “It was meant to happen. Ordained by the moon! I guess wizards always have attractions for their seekers. I’m crazy about you.”

  Attractions? Johnny’s ears shot off as fast as fireworks, whizzed around the garden and then landed back on his head.

  “You know? I…I’m too scared to do anything except kiss, though. Not that I don’t think about it. The actual sex.”

  Relief hit Johnny with the weight of a truck.

  “Sometimes. Not all the time. Mostly, I think of other things. Being a wizard is a lot of responsibility.” He hung his head down so hair hid his face. “I don’t mind.”

  “Me either. Kissing’s pretty big. Until you showed up, I didn’t think I ever would. Kissing is really, really, big,” Johnny admitted. If the other kids heard him say that, no hole would be deep enough to escape their mockery. “Actually enormous. I always worried once you kissed, you had to have sex.” He poked Finn back with one foot. “Not the law. Just that you’d have to because everyone else did.”

  “Good, then. That’s decided.”

  “I don’t mind either. I liked it.” His watch alarm went off. “Pie’s ready.”

  They stood up as if nothing much had happened and went back to get the pie out of the oven. The enormity of the kiss buzzed around inside Johnny’s head, as good as the night school broke up for the summer. Maybe better. He sniffed at the strange aroma coming from the oven. “Is it meant to smell like that?”

  Finn gagged. “No.”

  Smoke billowed from the oven. “I think we may have left it in too long. It’s almost black.” He placed it carefully on the wooden board and shut the oven quickly, before Greg smelt the smoke. Amazingly, his voice sounded more or less normal. Inside, he was racing and soaring and in a mess, wanting to replay the kiss—tell the ghost—do it again. Mostly do it again.

  “Oh, dear. Maybe it’s for the best. I was thinking—wizarding isn’t meant to do harm.” Finn frowned, and in Johnny’s head he kissed him for much longer, maybe tried things with tongues like the other kids were always talking about. “To be honest, I forgot most people don’t eat dog food. I only got it because it was in the bin. You’re thinking about sex again.”

  “I was not!” Johnny did his best to sound indignant rather than guilty. “Let’s throw it,” he interjected quickly, changing the subject.

  “Agreed.”

  Sex. Naked. He gathered up the blackened remains and threw them in the bin. “What do we do about the blood and whatever was locked up in the shed?”

  Finn’s face was thin and long, sprinkled with freckles but for once free from crisps and food smears. His eyes and hair were dark brown. Sex. Now Johnny could see so many things he hadn’t noticed before, like tiny hairs on his arms. Sex. A chipped tooth and a birthmark on his forehead in the shape of a crescent. Sex.

  “You know I can hear you?” Finn breathed.

  “Where’s my pie? Smells delicious,” Greg called from the doorway. He strode in and stood next to Finn. It was impossible he wouldn’t detect what had happened. “Well?”

  Johnny’s list: Mum, Nan, Granddad, Benjy (my dog), Sharon and Tim (other foster kids).

  The ragged edges of the cobweb blew in the wind. A chunk was missing, fallen away. “A kiss!” The cobweb wobbled precariously. “Then what happened?”

  “I dropped dead with shock—obviously. We made another pie—rhubarb—and shared it with Greg. Left a slice for the guy next door on his step.” Johnny hugged his knees. “According to Finn, rhubarb is full of energy and kindness, so it’s bound to make him stop doing whatever he does in that shed.” Finn, Finn, Finn, Finn. “Think Finn’s forgotten about that guy now, though. He lost interest.”

  “Expect that’s because he’s found a boyfriend.” The ghost laughed and Johnny shivered. “What else? Yes?”

  “Went to the shops… Played on the computer.”

  “Oh. Is that all?” The ghost sounded disappointed. “That doesn’t sound very magical. Or romantic.”

  It had been, though. Hours and hours of chasing cars, shooting enemies and teaming up with Finn, who was crap with the controls. Some of the other kids had even joined in.

  “Was there any more kissing?”

  “No.” Johnny lay flat on the bed and sighed happily. “Not sure there’s any room in my head for kissing. I’m full up. I keep trying to worry about stuff—out of habit—but I can’t.” Except Finn leaving Windybank. Sometimes kids disappeared without saying goodbye, though there were warning signs if you knew where to look. The first was a series of long chats—more than the obligatory once a week. Then new bags and suitcases being delivered to the house, and sometimes special teas. “Much. Finn’s already had his chat this week. He’s safe for the week. Do you think he’s safe?”

  Like always, the ghost ignored this question. “Oh. So what about all the wizard stuff? Not normal.”

  “You know what’s strange, though? Really, really strange? He actually is magic. He knows what I’m thinking, for a start. And he knew about you!” And a hundred other things. “Like the kids at school leaving him alone even when he’s waving that stick around and doing bizarre things. They sort of don’t see him.” Johnny struggled to explain. “He is the craziest person I’ve ever met.” He sighed happily again. “I don’t quite believe it. I—I have a friend who likes me. Likes me enough to come looking in the night when he has nightmares. Doesn’t care I can’t talk sometimes. Am I dreaming?” But the pine proof was there—a sprig on his pillow again. “He’s gorgeous.”

  “What have you found out about his dad?” the ghost asked.

  “No, nothing. Only what Greg told us ages ago when Finn arrived in that wheelchair. Suppose I should ask.” But Johnny wanted Finn all to himself—no family and no ties elsewhere. “He never talks about him. All I know is he starved Finn and locked him up—prisoner in a cave.” He shuddered. “Bastard. It’s no wonder he hoards all that food.” In the darkness at night, Johnny thought about Finn locked up, desperate and ill. It made him so sad the pillow grew wet with tears and not even the ghost could help.

  “Have you heard yourself?” The ghost laughed. “He’s not a pirate!”

  “OK, OK. It wasn’t a cave,” Johnny admitted. “Because there was a TV. It’s how Finn knows so much about psychology. But he was locked up. And you can tell—because he’s kind of naïve and daft, because he hasn’t been in the world much. Gorgeously daft. Daftly gorgeous.”

  “You seem a lot happier,” the ghost ventured.

  “I still worry.”

  “What does the therapist say about not looking too far ahead?” The ghost squeezed his hand. “Because if you spend all day worrying about that, you miss today.”

  “I know.”

  Johnny’s list: Mum, Nan, Granddad, Be
njy (my dog), Sharon and Tim (other foster kids), two bikes.

  “Breathe it in,” Finn urged. “Its essences will give us the strength and confidence to face the week.” He inhaled the swirling smoke coming from the stick. “Of course, it’s only shop bought, but you know I’m banned from setting fire to spells now.”

  Johnny dutifully breathed in deeply. It was cold in the shed, but there at least the door could be locked. “Because you set fire to your curtains.”

  “But that was on purpose! The fire was a sign the spell was very powerful.” Finn tutted. “If only Greg understood our calling.” He shuddered and huddled under his coat. The remains of a cough still ravaged his voice. Johnny’s insides twisted so hard it gave him the confidence to hug the thin figure.

  “Let’s go inside. You’re still not well.”

  “Not yet. I just have to do the incantation. Still haven’t found out the one who needs our help.” Finn sniffed. “Pity it turned out not to be him next door.” He allowed Johnny to hug tight. “I don’t know why we didn’t think of him being a game hunter. Those poor rabbits. And now we’re almost out of time.”

  “Your powers won’t work if you’re ill, though,” Johnny reasoned. “Come on.” He pulled Finn up and led them back inside the warm kitchen where the younger kids were decorating the Christmas tree. Hot chocolate? The floor was scattered with pine needles.

  “You helping us, Finn?” the kids asked, though they still avoided Johnny. He put on the kettle and clattered about with cups, pretending not to mind.

  “Yeah, go on, then.”

  Finn was soon hanging up ornaments and tinsel. There was nothing to worry about—the ghost was right—but still a bitter premonition of dread wouldn’t go away. Johnny stirred the drinks and decided to bring it up with Finn later on.

  Anna looked on, smiling, and then suddenly spoilt the day. “Finn? Can we have a chat?” The dreaded words made Johnny spill the drink onto the floor. He spun round.

  What? You already had two chats this week! What’s it about? Why does he need another one? Fucking leave Finn alone.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Anna said. She took Finn’s arm and led him off. Johnny wanted to run after them and shout, maybe even fight. He wanted to but, like always, did nothing. Finn turned and winked. Of course it was typical of them to ruin everything when—for the first time in ages—things were good.

  Something snapped deep inside.

  Johnny left the cups and ran to the hallway, where any packages and deliveries were left. The air left his lungs and all the strength in his legs failed. There on the carpet were two brand new suitcases, still wrapped in transparent seal. A kid was about to be sent away.

  He sank to his knees and screamed inside, but what came out was a whimper. Scattered on the carpet in little groups were pine needles, forming a pathway from the front door down the corridor and into the kitchen to the Christmas tree. He remembered Finn saying ‘and now we’re almost out of time’ in the shed. He must have known all along, and not wanted to tell.

  Finn knew.

  He opened the front door and hurled the suitcases out into the garden and the rain. It wouldn’t stop them moving Finn, but he had to do something. The therapist was always saying Johnny had to find a way to talk, even if it wasn’t through words.

  By the time he reached his bedroom and the ghost, Johnny was silently sobbing. I knew it. I knew it. I should never have got to know him! He threw things at the wall until the ghost took his hands and made him sit. Finn knew! He never liked me. He only pretended to.

  “Oh, Johnny. Are you sure? Stop pulling your hair out.”

  Yes! The suitcases and the chats. Finn betrayed me.

  For a while, Johnny was lost. The room, the ghost, Windybank and Finn all vanished. Everything faded away until finally he heard something. It was his own voice reciting the names on his list that he hid under his bed. He knew them off by heart but still he clutched the paper.

  “Johnny?” the ghost said, quietly at first and then louder. “Please stop scratching your arms. You haven’t done that in years. Are you sure?” The ghost’s voice shook. Outside the glass, the cobweb hung by a last thread. It was the end. It was the fucking end. “Have you asked Anna? Have you asked Finn? There must be something else?”

  Finn’s room! They will have started packing his stuff by now. Maybe he doesn’t even know?

  Johnny grabbed the tiny hope and clutched it with his list. He sprinted to Finn’s room and flung open the door. It was a mess, a terrible sight. Clothes, crisps packets and books covered most of the carpet and bed. It smelt of pine and trees, freedom. It smelt of Finn. He knew. Finn would never betray him, not even if they locked him away like before and starved him.

  Years and years of rage shot through Johnny. He ran without thinking, right down the stairs to the chatting room. It wouldn’t be locked, and even if it was he didn’t care.

  Johnny’s list: Mum, Nan, Granddad, Benjy (my dog), Sharon and Tim (other foster kids), two bikes, Doctor Who collectable figurines, iPad, coat, old teddy bear, books, posters, comics, telescope.

  He flew at the door like a hurricane, pausing only to turn the handle. There was a crash as the door banged open. Finn was sitting with his head in his hands, crying. Anna and Greg sat opposite.

  “No!” Johnny shouted. “No-no.” He threw the list at Anna. “No! I’ve lost Mum, Nan, Granddad, Benjy, Sharon and Tim. You lot lost all my photos and everything precious I ever had. Greg promised to find my memory box but he never did. No! No more!” He stopped to draw breath. Three faces looked back in shock. “Do you hear me? No.” He landed on the chair next to Finn and hugged him tightly. Thin arms hugged back. The wet on Finn’s cheeks broke all the pieces left of Johnny Strong. He disintegrated. “Don’t send him away! Please, please, please. You can have those people in the list but please leave Finn. NO—NO—NO—NO—NO. You can have everything—all my clothes—the bed—but please don’t take him away. NO.”

  “Johnny,” Anna began. “Please calm down. This isn’t your chat!”

  Greg stopped her. “Shh, Anna. Go on, Johnny,” he urged. “Shout as loud as you can. Go on!”

  But he was all out of shout. Johnny stroked Finn’s shaking shoulders and cried into his hair. “His dad starved him,” he sobbed. “And wouldn’t let him go to school or read, or go outside. He had to sit in front of the telly for days on end. Got so thin he had to go in hospital. He nearly killed him!” The shout came back. “NO! And if you send him back there, you might as well kill me too. No.” The rant ended as more of a cry of pain than a shout. “I’ve thrown the suitcases away and flushed the door key down the toilet. I’ll sit in front of the door and you’ll have to get a crane to move me because you’re not taking my boyfriend. NO—no—no—no—no. I’ll call the police and the BBC and tell them.”

  “Johnny Strong,” Finn whispered into Johnny’s hair. He pulled back to wipe his face but more tears burst out. Johnny forgot about Greg and Anna. He nudged Finn’s nose with his own, and that led into a long, teary kiss, one he would remember for the rest of his life.

  “Boys?” Greg knelt down in front. He placed a hand on Johnny’s knee and one on Finn’s. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.” He wiped his eyes and smiled. “And also the saddest, and the worst. Finn isn’t going anywhere. Not today and not tomorrow. He’s too old for foster parents and so are you. OK? Finn needs help and support for a long time. Even after he’s eighteen. He’s been through a lot—and so have you. I want to help you both. OK? I heard you, Johnny. Thank you.” Greg’s eyes welled up again. “And I want to keep on hearing you. I’m so sorry for all the things we lost and for all the people too. I’m sorry. Your shout went right down into my heart. It reminded me of all the reasons I wanted to do this job. I will never—ever—split you up. And that’s a promise. I’m sorry for all the times I ignored you, and all the times I tried to bully you into talking. It was wrong—so wrong. I am so sorry.” He ran a hand over a face covered in tears. “I forgot,
you see! All I saw was the paperwork and the inspection.”

  “Me too,” Anna said quietly. “I’m sorry, Johnny. We’re listening.”

  The last shred of cobweb hung on. If Johnny didn’t know, he might assume it was dirt or an old piece of string. “The cobweb’s almost gone.”

  “Bloody hell,” the ghost said. “His dad has schizophrenia?”

  “Yeah. And something else I can’t remember the name of. Went years without treatment. Dragged Finn round the country because he thought people were after them. He wasn’t intentionally cruel. He thought he was keeping Finn safe.” The glass was warm and comforting against Johnny’s face. “I wish I could really hug you. Don’t go. Please don’t leave me.”

  “Poor Finn.”

  “In the end, his dad boarded up the house. They lived off tins for four weeks.” Johnny shuddered, thinking of when the food had run out. “Then a neighbour heard Finn singing and called the police. He had to stay in hospital for ages.”

  “Aw. Is that why the wizard stuff? Because he had to have something to believe in? That poor boy.”

  Johnny hugged his knees and cried a little. “Yes. He was singing a spell of help. They’re not going to send him back. Not ever. The most contact he can expect is to be able to visit his dad in hospital, but not for ages. That’s what they were telling him when I burst in with the dramatics. He loves his dad.”

  “Poor boy,” the ghost said again. “Don’t worry about that old cobweb. We don’t need it anymore.”

  There was a knock at the door. “Hang on. Wait there. I do still need you.” Johnny rushed to put on his dressing gown and slippers. He opened the door. Finn stood there.

  “Hi.” He smiled the one that didn’t make a grin. Johnny pulled him inside. “Are you OK? I had a—wizard-sensing thing.” Finn glanced at the window. “Is it Napoleon?”

  “The cobweb,” Johnny said tightly.