Butterfly Suicide

by Loesch, Mary Ann

  “This school will be much better without you in it,” she tells me as I come in. “Much better.”

  “Yes, it will,” I agree.

  And so will I.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  MONICA

  I don’t take any of Stephen’s calls on Monday night. I’m too depressed to get out of bed and pick up the phone, which I’ve left on the floor. I roll over to the side of the bed and see his number flashing on the screen, but I don’t have the energy to get out of bed and grab the damn thing. Every muscle in my body aches. Eventually, the phone battery goes dead.

  Mom left yesterday. I feel like I’ll never see her again. She’s not all that far away, but when I think of her now, I don’t picture the same woman from my childhood. That woman is long gone.

  My dad doesn’t say anything about me staying home from school on Monday. He peeks in my room, confirms that I’m alive, and wanders off. From time to time, I hear him downstairs, but that’s it. We don’t talk about anything.

  Fine by me. I’m talked out.

  I alternate between grief and rage when I think about my parents. Simone’s anger at Daddy makes more sense. His betrayal and silence about the relationship between her and Jude is shocking. Much like my mother, I can’t even think of him in the same way I once did.

  I wonder if Stephen will look at me differently now. Will our weird family connection be too much for him? Even though he and I aren’t related, we do share a sibling. Jude is my half-brother since we have the same father.

  What if Stephen was calling to tell me that he doesn’t want to see me anymore? The thought is devastating. Despite everything, I still want to be with him.

  On Tuesday morning, I force myself up and out of bed.

  When I get to school, I wish I had stayed home another day. Being there does not seem worth the effort at all. The hallways have gotten longer, the classes endless. And there’s a smell now, a weird decaying, trash smell. It lingers in every classroom, but I’m the only one who can smell it.

  The cafeteria doors are the latest scandal and no one bothers to lower their voices about who they think spray painted on it and why. The general consensus puts Stephen as the culprit. I could clear him easily enough by explaining we’d been together most of the weekend dealing with the fact that my sister and his brother were siblings who committed incest. That’s definitely more time consuming and difficult than the average teenager might think.

  But I keep my mouth shut.

  It’s Mr. March who delivers the news that truly shocks me.

  “So I hear Stephen has been withdrawn from school.” Mr. March gives me a sympathetic smile. “His mom was here this morning.”

  “Oh,” I say, unable to hide my surprise. My stomach drops and my feet are lead. “I didn’t know.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, sincerely apologetic. “I figured you would be in the loop on this one.”

  “That’s alright.” A lump has formed in my throat. “Can I go get a drink of water?”

  “Of course,” Mr. March says. “Take all the time you need.”

  In the hallway, I discover my hands are shaking.

  Stephen is gone.

  Why didn’t he tell me? After everything, you would think he would have called and told me he was being withdrawn from school.

  Um…hello, dumbass? He did call you. Maybe he was trying to prep you for this. You were the coward who didn’t pick up the phone.

  What am I going to do?

  ****

  We have a late dance practice tonight on the football field. Since I’ve skipped some of the practices the last few weeks, I make myself go to this one. The temperature is a balmy 85 degrees, and we all welcome it as if it were a true cold front. It’s still hot as we do our kick line and practice our parade struts to get off and on the field, but I don’t feel as if I might melt at any second.

  When I see Stephen slip in the gates of the stadium during practice, I almost loose count and stumble. He walks over to the side of the stands, watching me before he ducks underneath and away from prying eyes. It’s a silent signal for me to come to him.

  But I take my time seeking him out. I’m upset about his withdrawal from school even though the practical side of me knows it’s for the best. When I can’t stand it any longer, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. As soon as I’m sure no one is watching, I slip under the bleachers. He is sitting in the same place as the last time I sought him out here. His eyes light up when he sees me and he stands.

  “Hey,” I say, wary. “What are you doing here?”

  He frowns a bit, perhaps sensing I’m slightly miffed. “Came to see you. I’ve been calling your cell.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to say,” I admit. “I spent all of yesterday in bed. Thinking about us, thinking about them.”

  “Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking worried. “I thought a lot, too.”

  He is nervous. The back and forth shuffle he does, the way he runs his hands through his hair—I recognize the signs now. Is this nervousness because he wants to break things off between us or because he’s afraid I do?

  Well, I don’t want to break things off. And I’m going to put myself out there right now. I’m going to set myself up for total rejection. At least, I can get it over with and start moving on instead of wondering.

  “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, have you?” I ask, trying to play it cool. “We are prone to moodiness and the need to change our mind about things at all times. You’ve got to get used to that.”

  “Is that what you are?” His face turns pink. “My girlfriend?”

  He doesn’t seem too turned off by the word. His reaction gives me courage.

  “I think so. Of course, girlfriends can publicly acknowledge who they are dating,” I say. “If I were to do that, it could cause you a lot of trouble.”

  His face lights up like I’ve just made him happy. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Handing it to me quickly, I see indecision flicker in his eyes. “Put that some place safe. Don’t read it right now.”

  “Is it a love letter?” I tease taking it from him. “Something sweet just for me?”

  “It’s my monologue.”

  “But you don’t have to do it anymore.”

  “I know, but I figure if we’re going to date, then we need to start changing the perception of who we are. We’re not just the younger siblings of Jude and Simone. We are Monica and Stephen, a bad ass couple who can take on the world,” he says. I start to open the paper, eager to read it, but he stops me. “No. Please don’t read it now. Save it for later.”

  “Okay.” I tuck it into the pocket of my skirt. “Safe and sound now. You really think we can take on the world?”

  The light in his eyes dims a little. “So I have some news. It’s not exactly good and will make our bad ass couple mantra kind of difficult.”

  My heart stops. Something is wrong.

  “My mom’s decided to sell the house. She’s decided to have a realtor take care of it and we’re going to move up north. Apparently, we have some family in Illinois, a cousin or something. They’re going to help us,” Stephen says, not meeting my eye. “We leave in a week.”

  Shocked, I take a step back and stumble against the fence. His eyes are filled with guilt and sympathy as he comes towards me. One of his hands reaches out to steady me while the other touches a strand of my hair.

  “I’ve wanted out of this town for so long, but now, leaving you here…it’s not fair,” he whispers.

  “No. It’s not. How can we be a bad ass couple if you aren’t here?” I ask, unable to stop a few tears from slipping free.

  “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  Both of our hearts are breaking and there is nothing to be done about it.

  “You looked good out there,” he says, nodding to the field, his fingers brushing against my cheek, catching a tear. He tries to tease me. “Rea
l good. Those skirts really show off your talent.”

  “My talent, huh?” I tap him lightly in the chest. “You perve.”

  “Actually, I had to see you. I couldn’t leave without kissing you one more time.”

  Aww….my heart melts. I put my hands on his waist. My back presses into the fence as I tug him close. His lips meet mine and I am lost in the sensation of his touch. We haven’t kissed in a couple of days. I’m like a girl who has been dying of thirst.

  This is the boy I want to be with.

  His hands cradle my face, but then he stops kissing me and rests his forehead against mine. Stephen’s eyes are closed.

  “I wish it could always be like this,” he whispers. “Just you and me. No problems.”

  “Me, too.”

  As he kisses me again, my thoughts stray to what could come next since he’s leaving soon. Am I ready to take things to the next level? Is that something I want right now? Where could we go for privacy?

  Just as I’m about to say something, a voice interrupts us.

  “I knew it!” Caitlin’s voice is full of triumph. “I told you she has a thing for him, Derek.”

  Stephen and I jerk apart.

  Derek and Caitlin are a few yards away, their eyes bright with disgust. Caitlin’s short dance skirt flutters around her as she swishes her hips to the side and crosses her arms knowingly. Derek stands sullenly by, staring at Stephen with pure hate in his eyes. Behind them, other dancers and random kids who were there to watch us practice are gathering.

  “How can you kiss him?” Caitlin’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “His family is trash.”

  Her dainty little nose all puckered up like she’s the queen of a damn diamond mine and Stephen is garbage beneath her feet pisses me off.

  “Shut up, Caitlin,” I warn, grabbing Stephen’s hand. “You don’t know anything about him.”

  “Psychotic behavior can run in families, Monica.”

  “Considering what a freak of the week you are, you must know all about that,” I counter.

  Caitlin’s mouth drops open.

  “Get out of here, Valley.” Derek pipes up, his narrowed eyes flash with anger. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

  “He can be anywhere he wants,” I counter. “Why don’t you two just go away and leave us alone? I’m sure Caitlin will be happy to take your mind off of us. Maybe you should take her to the park. I hear she loves to screw there.”

  They glance at each other, surprised.

  “You’re just a jealous bitch.” Caitlin manages to recover. “And there’s something wrong with your head if being with Stephen Valley gets you off.”

  “Oh yeah? What am I jealous of?”

  “That I’m with Derek.”

  “You and a bunch of other girls!” I laugh. “You’re not exactly special, sweetie. You know that blanket he keeps in the back of his car? Why do you suppose he keeps it there? You better hope he washed it after the last time he banged some dumb ass chick on it.”

  “You were at the park,” she hisses, understanding crossing her face.

  I smile. “And I heard everything.”

  Derek stiffens, worry and fear zig zagging down his face.

  Caitlin goes Female Fight Club on me. She lunges and grabs my hair, kicking me at the same time. I grab at her face with one hand, pushing her away while my other hand squeezes on her shoulder. She breaks free, shoving me to the ground.

  “Monica!” Stephen shouts, trying to pull off Caitlin while Derek stands by growing more furious by the second. “Stop! It’s not worth it!”

  Yeah it is.

  Next thing I know, people have surged around us, banging on the fence, yelling, urging us on, cell phones out as they film this ugly debacle. Caitlin and I grapple on the ground, dirt and grass covering us as we fight for leverage.

  I never knew fighting could make you feel so good, so alive.

  Finally, I manage to get on top and punch her across the jaw. Her squeal of pain prompts Derek to take action. He grabs me around the waist, pulling me off her even though I’m so blind with anger I could have gone on smashing her face in joyfully for hours. He is rough in his grip, throwing me on the ground, taking my breath away.

  I don’t know why, but I start crying.

  Stephen thinks I’m crying because Derek hurt me. Next thing I know, he runs straight into Derek, head butting him.

  “You stay the fuck away from her,” he shouts.

  Derek is caught off guard by the suddenness of the attack. He falls backwards, giving Stephen the advantage. Now people are wildly cheering on the two boys.

  All I can think about is Stephen’s already bruised ribs; how he is still recovering from the last beating Derek gave him.

  “You fucking coward!” Stephen screams, punching Derek for all he’s worth. “How does it feel now?”

  Derek swings back, landing a hit to Stephen’s jaw, but it’s as if Stephen is high on Superman adrenaline, too. He doesn’t even flinch. His eyes are dark with anger and he keeps pounding away.

  “You could have stopped him! You could have stopped him!” He shouts, unaware that as he yells a hush is starting to fall over the crowd. They listen to his words, trying to make sense of them. “You knew he had a gun and you walked away! You let them die!”

  “What did he say?” Someone near me says. “Is he talking about Jude?”

  “Did Derek know Jude had a gun?”

  “What the fuck?”

  It ripples through the crowd, recorded for posterity and sent to YouTube.

  “He may have been my monster to live with, but at least I didn’t see the goddamn gun!” Stephen shouts. “You did! You fuckin’ coward!”

  There are gasps from the crowd.

  “And what’s this?” Stephen jerks one of Derek’s hands up and then grabs the index finger. “A blue paint stain. Looks a lot like the color spray painted on the cafeteria.”

  “Derek Andrews spray painted the cafeteria door.” The words travel through the crowd, which is made up mostly of kids, though I spy a few adults towards the back of the group outside the fence. They do nothing to help stop the fight, but there is disapproval on their faces.

  Derek knows the tide of opinion is changing and not in his favor. He shakes his hand free and grabs Stephen’s wrists, locking around them like iron shackles, before rolling him over. Stephen lies winded and gasping on the ground, all the fight out of him, but obviously starting to feel pain. Derek stands, but there is murder in his eyes.

  “Stephen!” I shout, but my warning is too late.

  Derek kicks him in the ribs twice and then sits on top of Stephen, his hands closing around his neck, the rage clear as day on his face even in the dim light.

  Stephen can’t breathe. His eyes are wide.

  “Get off him!” I scream and throw myself on Derek’s back trying to pull him off. I swear his arms are made of steel and won’t budge. “Help me!”

  The paralysis surrounding the crowd breaks and several boys rush forward, pulling Derek off Stephen. I stare down, terrified by what I see. His eyes are shut and he doesn’t look like he’s breathing.

  “Oh god,” I wail. “Call 911.”

  No one says anything. No one even breathes. It’s as if they’re all weighing the consequences of what may or may not happen. Or is it they are still thinking of Stephen only in terms of being Jude’s brother? Will they lift a finger to help him?

  “Please,” I cry. “Please. He’s just a kid. He’s a good person.”

  “I’m calling 911 now,” Heather Renee speaks up, from the back. “Someone get him a blanket.”

  People stand around as we wait for the ambulance, talking in hushed tones. A few adults that I don’t know take over tending to Stephen and force me to step away from him. I can’t stop shaking, even though it is warm outside. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Derek Andrews, bloody and bruised, slip away with Caitlin.

  The minor emergency center t
akes one look at Stephen and decides he needs to go to a real hospital. The closest one is in Davenport. They don’t want to wait for his mother. Stephen is struggling to breath and they worry a rib may have punctured his lung.

  Because I throw a fit, they let me ride in the ambulance with him. No way is he going that far without a friendly face beside him. I push his hair back from his forehead, hoping he will open his eyes.

  “You guys get in a fight?” The paramedic eyes me, taking in my torn shirt and the bruises on my face. “Do you need medical attention, too?”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “This other boy tried to kill him.”

  “Then we need to get the police involved,” the paramedic says. “We’ll notify them when we get to Davenport.”

  The police? Stephen will hate that.

  I pull out my phone and dial Mrs. Valley’s number. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Yes?” Her voice trembles.

  “It’s Monica. Mrs. Valley, Stephen is hurt. They’re taking him to the hospital in Davenport,” I say. “You need to come there.”

  “I’m on the way.”

  She hangs up.

  I call my father next.

  “Monica?” He asks. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

  “Daddy, something bad happened.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I’m on the way to the hospital with Stephen. We’re going to Davenport.”

  “What happened?”

  “Stephen got in a fight and he’s hurt bad.”

  “Does his mother know?”

  “I called her.”

  “I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  He hangs up.

  In Davenport, we are quickly ushered through the emergency room and they take Stephen away from me for the examination. I sit in the cold waiting area, wondering what is going to happen. Mrs. Valley and Daddy arrive at almost the same time. They both rush to me, asking questions so fast I’m overwhelmed.

  “Stop!” I say. “Let me explain.”

  Tearful, Mrs. Valley listens as I tell her what happened. Daddy stands apart from us, a slight frown on his face.