The Boy with the Butterfly Mind

by Victoria Williamson

  I’d ask Cath for some more, but she’s run out of pound coins. I already checked in her purse when she wasn’t looking. Pity, I really wanted one of those Captain America soft toys too.

  “Aunt Cath, can we stop? I need to pee.”

  “I told you not to drink the whole bottle of juice in one go! Wait till Manchester, we’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “But that’s too long! What if I can’t hold it in? What if my bladder explodes? Please Aunt Cath, please! I really need to peeeeeeeeee—”

  “JAMIE! That’s enough! And stop bouncing up and down like that. You’re eleven for goodness’ sake, you can wait a little bit longer for the next stop.”

  I stop bouncing and start kicking the back of her seat again instead, trying to find something to take my mind off the two litres of fizz that’s blown my stomach up like a balloon ready to pop. Cath isn’t trying to be mean – she’s stopped nine times for me already, and at this rate we’ll never get to Glasgow before dark, even though she picked me up at the crack of dawn. We’ve been driving for hours and hours. We must be halfway across the universe by now. I’m bored boredboredboredbor—

  Ooh, what’s that?

  There’s something bright and shimmery on the road, with a billion colours dancing in the sunlight. It’s like we’re driving up a rainbow. Only there isn’t a pot of gold at the other end, there’s only Glasgow. At least my dad will be waiting for me there. I can’t wait to see him again, even though I’m so nervous at the thought of moving to a new city with new people in a new house and going to a new school that I want to scream. I take my seat belt off again and press my face up against the window to get a better look at the swirling colours in the oil slick, trying to see past the sparkly diamonds of rain that are clinging to the glass.

  The oil must be leaking from that big truck just up ahead. I really want to see the river of glittering colours up close, but the window’s getting all fogged up and I can barely see out, and the truck’s indicating to turn off the motorway at the next exit, and I’m not going to get a chance to see a melted rainbow on the road ever again if I don’t do something quick…

  So I do the one thing that’ll give me a great view of the magical shimmering road before it disappears.

  I open the passenger door.

  There’s a rush of wind, and before I know it the door’s gaping wide and I’m clinging onto the handle with both hands, hanging out over the road and trying to pull myself back into the car with my feet. There’s a screech of brakes and the loud honking of a horn in my ear as the car in the other lane swerves to avoid hitting me, and then Cath is shrieking my name and yelling her head off and our car is swerving too and we’re lurching onto the hard shoulder and slowing down and the wind stops trying to tear me out and I finally close the door but the other one opens and Cath is standing there shouting Shouting SHOUTING!

  “WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?” I hear her roar through the fog of panic that’s smothering me. My hands are shaking and I want to be sick again. The knot of moving-to-Glasgow dread in my stomach is now a giant ball of fear that I won’t even make it there because I’m so stupid I’ll get myself killed chasing rainbows on the road instead.

  “You nearly fell onto the motorway!” Cath yells, like I hadn’t already noticed. “God Jamie, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  My throat’s tight and I start sniffing. Before I can stop them, tears are pouring down my face and washing off the last little bit of sick and burger relish on my chin. It’s not fair asking questions you already know the answer to. Cath knows what’s wrong with me. Everybody does. I have ADHD, and that makes me Jamie the Freak-Boy who can’t think ahead to work out just how dangerous opening a car door in the middle of a busy motorway is.

  It’s funny how just four letters can mean the difference between being normal and being the kind of monster whose own mother moves to a different country to get away from him.

  “Are you OK? You didn’t hurt yourself?”

  When I can finally see through the blur of tears, Cath’s face isn’t angry any more, just really worried, and that makes me want to cry harder.

  When we set off again she makes sure my seat belt’s on and the doors are locked, and then she asks me to recite all the chemical elements from the periodic table and tell her what makes each one special. Soon I forget all about nearly getting killed, and I spend the entire break at a pit-stop cafe near Manchester talking about oxygen. By the time we get to Carlisle I’m so busy describing the totally cool gas xenon, I don’t even remember how much I’m dreading getting to Glasgow. Cath nods at me every now and then in the rear-view mirror to keep me talking as we head over the border. I think she’s finally figured out that the only way to keep me out of trouble is to keep my mind occupied.

  It’s only when we pull into a big car park and I’m running out of things to say about radium that I realise it’s dark and the street lights are on.

  “Are we having dinner here?” I ask. I’m cheating too, cos I already know the answer.

  “No Jamie, we’re here. This is Glasgow. This is where we’re meeting your dad.”

  Cath gets out of the car and goes to meet the dark-haired man who’s already walking over to us with a big smile on his face. I press my own face against the glass and stare at him. The butterflies in my stomach have grown as big as helicopters, and it feels like they’re all trying to take off at once. What if he’s changed? What if he’s different and he doesn’t really want to be my dad any more? What if he’s going to put me in an orphanage as soon as Mum’s plane leaves? What if—

  “Sandwich Man!”

  Dad comes jogging over to open my door. I brace myself to endure a hug, but he doesn’t hug me. Dad remembers. He puts his hand up for a high five, and I slap it in relief and give him a big grin too.

  He hasn’t changed a bit.

  He’s still my dad.

  Cath doesn’t remember though. She gives me a quick hug while I make a face at Dad behind her back that says, ‘I hate this!’ and he makes a face that says, ‘Yeah, I know.’ I pull away quickly and help Dad lift my suitcase into the boot of his car. Then it’s time for me to go, and I’m getting nervous again at how new and different everything’s going to be, and Cath turns to walk away and I almost don’t want her to leave.

  “Thanks for driving me here, Aunt Cath. Sorry I was so much trouble. Tell Mum I’ll miss her.”

  “She’ll miss you too, Jamie.”

  Yeah, just not enough.

  I climb into the back of Dad’s car and watch Cath drive off and leave me too.

  “You ready, Jamie? You’re going to love Glasgow. I know this is a big change, but it’ll work out, I know it will. Give it some time – before you know it we’ll be a proper family, you’ll see.”

  At least I still have Dad. At least he still wants me. And maybe, if I try really REALLY hard to be good, his new family will want me too.

  And that’s what I want more than anything.

  Part Two

  Weaving Cocoons

  11

  Elin

  “You should see what they’ve done to the spare room, Dad!” I said for the third time in as many minutes. “Paul’s taken away all the nice guest stuff and covered everything in horrible football colours. It looks awful!”

  “I know it’s hard for you, Princess.” Dad’s voice was small and far away on the other end of the phone, like he was busy doing something else and not really paying attention. “But Jamie needs to feel at home there, and it is a spare room after all.”

  Dad didn’t get it. I’d been keeping that spare room spotless for him ever since we moved here in case he came to visit and I got the chance to persuade him to stay for good. But he never came, he just kept saying it was too far and Sue was working and Beth needed to be looked after, and I should come and stay with them in Edinburgh for a weekend instead.

  “But Paul’s spent a fortune on all the stuff in there! And Mum’s been going on for ages about how I can�
��t have riding lessons yet as money’s so tight. I was meant to get them for my birthday in a few months, but Paul’s spending all the money on his son instead, and it isn’t FAIR, Dad!”

  “I’ll have a talk to your mum about that,” Dad said, sounding tired and distracted. That’s what he always said when I mentioned riding lessons. Dad and Sue were spending all their money on Beth, and Mum and Paul were spending all their money on Jamie, and nobody seemed to have any money left to spend on me.

  “And now Mum says he has to go to my school too!” I hadn’t finished my list of complaints yet. “She filled in the paperwork for him to start on Monday, and she didn’t even ask me if it was OK first! Why can’t he go to another school, Dad? Why does he have to—”

  There was a loud wailing sound from the other end of the phone that set my teeth on edge.

  “I’m sorry Princess, Beth’s just woken up from her nap, I’ll have to go.”

  “But—”

  “I love you. I’ll see you soon, OK? Bye for now.”

  Dad disconnected the call before I could tell him I loved him back. Maybe that didn’t matter to him now that he had a new, cuter version of me to fuss over. Everything was always Beth Beth Beth. I hated her so much I even made a wish in one of Gran’s pots that she would be kidnapped by aliens and taken away to another planet.

  “Elin, get off the phone, they’re here!” Mum called from the kitchen before I could go and write a chapter of my story where the Mutant fell into the Wicked Witch’s cauldron and was made into cabbage soup. I put Mum’s phone back in her handbag and stomped down the hall.

  Mum had stopped fussing with the pots on the cooker and was leaning over the sink to peer out of the kitchen window. There was a flash of lights in the dark as Paul’s car pulled into the drive at the side of the house, then a slamming of doors and a crunching of feet up the gravel path. I ignored the sound of a key turning in the front door and started setting the dinner table slowly and carefully like I couldn’t hear anything at all. Maybe if I pretended this wasn’t happening the Imposter and the Monster would just magically disappear.

  “Let’s go and meet them,” Mum said, turning the cooker down and hurrying into the hall. Her voice was too bright and her smile was too wide. She was nervous, I could tell. “Come on Elin, come and meet your stepbroth—” Mum managed to bite the word back before it slipped out, and changed it quickly to ‘new friend’ instead.

  I don’t have a stepbrother! I wanted to yell. You’re not married to Paul, so he’s not my stepdad – I’ll never call him that. I don’t have a stepbrother or a stepdad or a half-sister or ANY OF THEM!

  There was just Mum and Dad and Gran and me, and we were surrounded by Monsters and Imposters who were trying to keep us apart. They weren’t going to win – I was too clever to let anyone beat me. I’d been working on plans to make sure Jamie never settled in this house and would end up back with his mum. Plan A had been to keep my fairy-tale ending alive by talking Mum and Paul out of bringing Jamie here in the first place. Plan A had failed. It was time to move on to Plan B.

  I set out the last cup, straightened the sauce bottles on the kitchen table, then went to join Mum in the hall. There was no avoiding it, I had to go and meet the enemy. I had to see exactly what I was up against if I wanted to win my real family back.

  Plan B was war.

  12

  Jamie

  This isn’t what I was expecting.

  I thought that Dad’s girlfriend Liz and her daughter would just ignore me the way that Chris did. I wasn’t expecting a big reception committee at the door.

  “Hi Jamie, it’s lovely to have you staying with us!” Liz smiles at me so brightly I’m blinded, and it takes me a minute to see there’s a shorter version of her standing right behind her in the hall, scowling at me like I’m a big pile of dog poop that’s just landed on her nice clean doormat. That’s not the only thing that’s clean in this house. Everything’s so shiny white it’s like I’m in an operating theatre. Dad might be a nurse, but he’s never been that tidy. It must be Liz who’s the clean freak around here.

  The sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach gets worse when she gives me a big hug and I see Dad tense up like he’s scared I’m going to react badly. I grit my teeth and try to smile at her, but all I can see is her super-neat short blonde hair and her perfectly ironed clothes that smell fresh out of the washing machine, and I know, I just know that I’m never going to fit in here.

  “Elin, why don’t you show Jamie round the house while Paul and I get dinner ready? We’ll just be ten minutes.”

  The shorter version of Liz folds her arms and stares at me as Dad and Liz go into the kitchen. I’m not very good at reading people, and I’m not sure what she’s thinking. I can tell when they’re happy or sad, or angry or hurt, but that’s about it. The scowl has gone and now this girl’s face is blank, just like some creepy china doll sitting on the shelf in a haunted house, watching every move I make. I saw that in a film once. There was this guy who inherited a big old house from his great-grandmother, and when he moved in he found all these dolls that—

  “Take your shoes off.”

  “What?”

  The girl’s still standing there looking at me.

  “Don’t say ‘what’, it’s rude. Say ‘sorry’ or ‘pardon’. Wipe your feet on the mat outside and then put your shoes on the rack in the cupboard here.”

  Elin’s big green eyes follow me as I go back outside and wipe my feet on the mat, then take my shoes off and put them neatly on the rack she points out. Urgh. There is no way I’m going to remember to do that every day. I shrug my jacket off and go fishing around in my pocket for chewing gum, then I remember I used it all up in my failed attempt to break the world gum-chewing record on the way here. I always chew gum when I’m nervous, and this girl is making me all twitchy like I’ve got fleas in my underwear biting my bum.

  “Seriously?” She says it so flatly I can’t tell what she means.

  “Um… what?”

  “You’re just going to fling your jacket on the floor and expect someone else to pick it up? What are you, a badly trained chimpanzee?”

  “Oh, sorry…” I pick my jacket up again and hang it on the hook she points out in the cupboard. This is not going well. I don’t think she likes me. “So… can I see the rest of the house?”

  Elin looks me up and down, checking out the tomato-sauce stains on my T-shirt, the bit of chewing gum stuck to my jeans and my mismatched socks, then she jerks her head for me to follow her.

  “Just don’t touch anything,” she sniffs.

  She’s got a long blonde ponytail that bounces against her back as she walks, and it’s so silky and shiny-looking I’m tempted to reach out and grab it to see what it feels like.

  DON’T. TOUCH. ANYTHING.

  I stuff one hand into my jeans and the other into my mouth to chew my fingernails instead, following Elin round the house and trying not to wreck the place. I do pretty well. I knock over a plant in the living room and get soil on the carpet, and a big smudge of tomato sauce rubs off on the bathroom towels when I can’t help feeling how fluffy they are, but Elin’s too busy firing orders at me to notice.

  “… And don’t put the TV on in the evening when I’m trying to study, or in the morning, or… in fact, don’t touch the TV at all without asking. Bathroom. Toothbrushes. Shampoo. Don’t use anything in here without permission. Mum and Paul’s room. Don’t go in there. My room. None of your business. If you so much as touch my door handle, I’ll kill you. The spare room. You’re to sleep in here while you’re staying with us, which probably won’t be for very long. Any questions?”

  “Um… so… do you like the Transformers?” I try, bouncing on my feet awkwardly and racking my brains for a way to make friends. Everybody likes the Transformers. They’re the best thing ever. “You know – ‘robots in disguise’.” I hum the theme tune from the old cartoon I like to watch online.

  “What?” The girl’s eyes narrow to litt
le black pinpricks.

  “Don’t say ‘what’,” I joke, “say ‘sorry’ or ‘pardon’.”

  Elin’s pupils disappear and all that’s left of her eyes are huge circles of green that look like robot laser cannons ready to blast me out of existence.

  “Elin! Jamie! Dinner time!” Liz calls from the kitchen.

  I run back down the hall before the robot eyes can get me.

  Maybe the Transformers aren’t so cool after all.

  13

  Elin

  This wasn’t what I was expecting.

  I chewed my chicken casserole slowly, staring at the boy opposite me as he bounced in his seat like a baby kangaroo and dropped bits of food in his lap.

  For one thing, I thought he’d be bigger.

  In my head the Monster was a giant – six feet tall and built like a tank. He had a shaved head and mean little eyes, with beefy fists ready to flatten anyone who got in his way. He was a loud-mouthed bully, a cartoon version of Rachel at school, and I was the hero who had to protect my family against him.

  But Jamie wasn’t any of those things.

  He wasn’t even as tall as me for a start.

  He was small and skinny and full of twitchy nervous energy, and he talked so fast he sounded like a film playing at high speed. His dad’s family were from Hong Kong, and Jamie’s brown eyes and mop of black hair that flopped over his face when he talked made him look like the puppy version of Paul the Imposter.

  He was the enemy, and I wasn’t even scared of him. How was I meant to fight a war against a wimp like that? It was like trying to fight Beth for Dad’s attention. She was so small and perfect there was no way I could win. Jamie looked like he’d fit right in here. He even had the same English accent as Mum and Paul. I was outnumbered at my own dinner table.