The Butterfly Novels Box Set: Contemporary YA Series (And By The Way; And For Your Information; And Actually)

by Denise Deegan

  ‘It’s good to see you in such good form.’

  I think of David and smile. ‘Sun’s shining.’

  He glances out the window. It might be shining but it’s doing so from behind a thick bank of grey. His eyes form a question.

  ‘Gotta go,’ I say, getting up.

  ‘Wait! There’s something I want to tell you, in case it comes up in the media or on the Net. I’ve got a barring order against that fan. It’s not a big deal. Just wanted you to know.’

  ‘Why d’you need a barring order?’

  ‘She was just getting silly.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘She wanted to marry me.’

  I burst out laughing. ‘Really? That’s it?’

  ‘She was contacting me a lot. Mike thought it would be a good idea, you know, to put an end to it.’

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘I don’t know much about her. Apparently, I called her up on stage once.’ He shrugs like he’s no memory of it.

  ‘And you’ve never actually met her?’

  ‘No. It’s daft. Completely daft. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. In case it comes up.’

  It will. Anything that affects him publicly always comes back on me. I just never know how, until it happens.

  When Rachel gets on the DART, it’s weird but it feels especially great to see her, like she’s some long-lost friend that’s just returned from years of exile. Or something.

  ‘Well, you’re obviously better,’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look great. You’re even smiling.’

  ‘Rachel. I do smile occasionally. I’m not an Emo.’

  She says nothing. And now I’m wondering, I do smile, don’t I?

  ‘What was it, a twenty-four-hour thing?’

  OK, now I get it. ‘I think I was just kind of overtired or something.’

  ‘Amy can be a real pain,’ she says.

  ‘Thanks for rescuing me.’

  She shrugs like it’s no biggie. We fall silent. I know she wants to ask about David. She knows I won’t want to talk about it. So we sit in silence. Stuck. I really want to tell her. But that would make it something. And I don’t want it to be something. I just want it to be. Rachel looks out the window. I look down at my bag, fiddle with the tiny blue skateboard hanging from it. Then I think of something she will want to talk about.

  ‘So, you auditioning for the play?’ (We’re putting on Macbeth.)

  She looks hurt. ‘Only someone who doesn’t know me would ask me that.’ Rachel’s been acting since she was four. It’s, like, in her blood. Of course she’s auditioning. She looks at me. ‘We’re becoming strangers and you’re making it happen,’ she says, so earnestly I can’t look at her. ‘OK, fine,’ she says, then. ‘Ignore me. Don’t do close. Just don’t expect me to either.’ She looks out the window.

  I feel sick. I never meant to upset anyone, especially not Rachel. I just thought I could pull back, protect myself. I look at the side of her face and can’t believe we’re here, like this. We could always tell each other anything. With no fear. We were so close. We’d think the same thoughts at the same time. Say the same things at the same time. Laugh out loud spontaneously. At the same time. I sigh deeply. Then I see Sarah coming towards us and feel like groaning.

  She looks at the two of us.

  ‘Jesus,’ she says. ‘Who died?’ Then she goes bright red. ‘Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Alex. I can’t believe I said that. What’s wrong with me? Jesus. Seriously, Alex. I am so sorry.’

  ‘Forget it,’ I say. And the good thing about Sarah is I know she will.

  At school, it’s not so hard to avoid David because all I can think of is Rachel.

  In the afternoon, the auditioning kicks off. Rachel goes up for the part of Lady Macbeth. David decides to try out for Macduff. Sarah doesn’t want to go up against Rachel, or play a guy, so she’s not auditioning. Me? The Rockstar is a big enough star for the both of us. The big surprise is Mark Delaney, who wants the part of Macbeth. And nothing but Macbeth.

  Orla Tempany is up on stage, auditioning for a man’s part: Macduff. The rest of us are standing around in groups, vaguely looking on. Except for Rachel, who’s totally into what’s happening on stage.

  ‘She’s good,’ she says, sounding surprised.

  My surprise is more immediate. Mark and David are coming our way. I try not to react, to be cool. I’m wondering what’s up.

  But it’s Mark who talks, not David.

  ‘So, Rachel . . .’

  She turns from the stage like she was miles away.

  ‘D’you think we’d make a good couple?’ he asks, kind of flirty.

  She squints. ‘What?!’

  ‘You’re up for Lady Macbeth. I’m up for Macbeth.’

  She looks relieved. ‘So are a lot of other people, Mark. No offence.’

  ‘They haven’t a hope,’ he says. And I presume he’s joking. Rachel looks at him. ‘That part’s going to involve a serious amount of work, Mark.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So it’s not like you have to do this.’

  ‘Wow. You really don’t think much of me, do you?’

  We all look at him suddenly. But then he laughs and walks off.

  David’s goodbye is a glance.

  ‘Oh my God, he so fancies you,’ Sarah says. I look at her in panic. But she’s looking at Rachel. ‘Mark Delaney is totally into you.’

  I start to breathe again.

  ‘No offence, Sarah,’ Rachel says. ‘But according to you, everyone fancies everyone.’

  ‘Well, everyone fancies someone, that’s for sure.’ Sarah says. Sometimes I just want to hug her.

  ‘He won’t get the part,’ Rachel says, like she’s reassuring herself. ‘This is a serious production. And Mark Delaney is a total messer.’

  But, later, when Mark takes to the stage and does his thing, she’s silent. Totally silent. Because. He. Is. Amazing. And it is absolutely unbelievable that Mr So-Laid-Back-He’s-Comatose can be so passionate, so alive, so convincing, so, actually, hot. He’s like a different guy.

  Rachel’s staring. ‘I think I might have underestimated him.’

  ‘Told you he was seriously caliente,’ Sarah says.

  ‘I’m not talking about caliente. He’s just seriously talented.’

  And I think we’ve just found the way to Rachel’s heart.

  After a day of not being able to talk to him, look at him, be with him, I really need to hear from him. Going home on the DART, I’m hoping he’ll ring. In the car with Mike, I’m hoping. I check that my iPhone is in my pocket, switched on, volume up. Then I keep my hand on it so I can feel it vibrate. I could ring him. Oh, God. What am I doing? I like this person too much.

  The text comes at 4.30 p.m. ‘Wnt 2 walk Homer?’

  Yay! I call him back. Suggest Killiney Beach, which I can walk Homer to and he can reach by DART (no car today).

  The beach is deserted, apart from the occasional dog walker. Homer yanks on the lead, straining to get to the sea. He crouches low, forcing his way forward. I tell him to sit. I scan the beach for David. I’m so dying to see him that I begin to panic. I thought I could control this, but what if I can’t? I should stop right now, turn around, go home. But I don’t stop. I don’t turn around. I don’t go home. I tell myself it’ll be OK. I’ll handle it. Pull back if things get heavy. I can do this. Homer is seriously pulling now, so I take off his lead. He shoots off, bounding over a band of grey pebbles, heading for the sea. I go after him. That’s when I see David, sitting where the sand slopes gently to the water, looking out towards the horizon. He looks like the guy in the poster watching at the sunset. The dog makes straight for him.

  ‘Homer!’ I call.

  He ignores me. But David turns. And sees the incoming missile. He manages to get to his feet but the dog’s almost on him now and he prepares for impact. But Homer races past and dashes into the surf. David laughs. Seconds later, I reach him. His smile is intimate, like
he knows everything about me. Which he doesn’t. He couldn’t. He pulls me into a hug, then kisses me.

  ‘I’ve wanted to do that all day,’ he says.

  I want to give in, admit the same but I pull back. ‘Want to see a trick?’ I take a tennis ball from my pocket and throw it out past Homer.

  ‘Wonderful,’ David says, without looking. He slips his hands around my waist and pulls me to him. ‘But I’m not dating Homer.’ His lips are cold and salty from the sea air, and, when he kisses me again, I don’t want it to end. It’s just a kiss, I tell myself. Total strangers do it all the time in night clubs. Means nothing.

  Then he’s lifting me up. Laughing, I have to wrap my legs around his waist to stay there. We are eye-to-eye now.

  ‘That’s better,’ he says. Then he’s kissing me again. Then a soaking wet dog is jumping up on us.

  ‘Jesus!’ David says and sets me down. Homer drops the ball at David’s feet, then shakes water all over him. ‘Jesus,’ he says again. And we’re laughing. ‘I thought he didn’t retrieve.’

  ‘Only in water. It’s either that or no more ball.’

  He shakes his head like the dog’s a genius. Which he is. David fires the ball way out, farther than Homer’s ever been. His ears prick up and he’s off. We sit on the sand, watching him. I feel like I could say anything. Which makes me keep it safe.

  ‘I’m thinking of going back to hockey.’

  He looks at me. ‘You should. You’re a seriously good player.’

  I bump him with a shoulder. ‘How would you know?’

  His eyes hold mine. ‘You don’t think I just started noticing you now.’ He leans towards me and I’m trying to work out how to get out of a kiss I want more than anything when, with perfect timing, two great wet paws land on my shoulder. A cold, wet and salty muzzle slobbers on my neck. I jump up.

  ‘Homer! Get off!’

  David stands, takes my hand and we start to walk along the beach, kicking the ball ahead of us to keep Homer busy.

  ‘So,’ he says, after a few minutes. ‘Mark thinks we’re doing the right thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Not telling people.’

  I stop, and look at him. ‘Hang on. You told Mark?’

  ‘Course I did.’

  ‘I thought we weren’t telling people.’

  ‘We weren’t telling the class. Mark’s my friend. Didn’t you tell Rachel?’

  Guilty, I look away.

  ‘What about Sarah?’

  ‘Are you kidding? That’d be like making an official announcement. She wouldn’t mean to let it out, but the information would win in the end.’

  He laughs. ‘But you trust Rachel, right?’

  ‘Of course I trust her.’

  ‘Then why not tell her?’

  I look at him. And can’t admit how weird I am.

  His face changes. His hand falls away. ‘I get it,’ he says, voice flat.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s because of me, isn’t it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not good enough.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘For a rockstar’s daughter.’

  ‘Oh my God, I can’t believe you said that. I can’t believe that you, of all people, brought him into this. What’s your problem? You know I hate him.’

  ‘You haven’t told anyone about us. There must be a reason.’

  ‘There is! I just want it to be the two of us, hanging out, taking it easy. No big deal.’

  ‘So why do you pull back from me?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sometimes you seem really into me. Then sometimes you pull back.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous!’

  ‘It’s like you like me, but don’t really want to.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I say, but in a way it is exactly true. ‘Is it a crime to not want to rush things?’

  He’s looking at me carefully. ‘So you don’t have a problem with me?’

  ‘Oh my God. If I’d a problem with you, would I be here?’

  ‘I don’t know. You tell me.’

  I squint at him. ‘Are you just looking for compliments or something?’

  His face relaxes. ‘Well, if you want to give me a few . . .’ And he’s back. The real David.

  I hit him.

  ‘So we’re OK?’ he says.

  ‘We are definitely OK.’

  ‘Phew,’ he says. ‘Just had to get that out of the way. Sorry.’

  ‘You should be.’ I take his hand and lift it so that his arm is around my shoulder. I snuggle up to him so that he knows the problem’s mine, not his. And if I hated The Rockstar before, it’s nothing to how I feel now.

  TEN | SERIOUSLY CALIENTE

  The auditions run all the next day. And I’m not Shakespeare’s biggest fan but they are killing his work. And my patience. Apart from the really, really bad performances (some of which, admittedly, are hilarious), it’s so boring I’m close to suicidal. We’re just hanging around the hall watching everyone make fools of themselves. OK, not everyone. Simon Kelleher is a total surprise.

  At three o’clock, our (absolutely undramatic) drama teacher stands up on the stage and starts to call out the names for the main parts. The role of Macbeth goes to Mark Delaney. He punches the air. David pats him on the back, and people around them congratulate him. Simon Kelleher is Macduff. He looks stunned. David looks a bit disappointed. But he gets the part of Duncan and seems happy enough with that. He sneaks a look at me. And I give him the biggest smile. Finally, Lady Macbeth – Rachel. Though it’s no surprise, Sarah and I whoop and clap. Sarah throws her arms around a beaming Rachel.

  ‘I knew you’d do it. Jitter Mug, after school, to celebrate.’

  And I know that if money wasn’t a problem, she’d also be saying, ‘drinks are on me’. Sarah’s like that.

  I go to hug Rachel. But she stands back, her smile fading.

  ‘It’s OK,’ she says, so cold. ‘You don’t have to hug me.’ I just stand there. Shocked.

  ‘What is up between you two?’ Sarah looks baffled. But then she’s distracted. Mark, David and Simon are passing by.

  ‘Hey guys, well done!’ she calls after them.

  They stop and turn. It’s like something out of a movie. Sarah’s caliente theory was right. Even Simon looks caliente next to the others.

  ‘We’re going to the Jitter Mug, after, to celebrate, if you’re on?’ she says.

  Rachel and I exchange a glance. Rachel rolls her eyes. It would never occur to Sarah that Rachel mightn’t want this.

  ‘What say you, Lady Macbeth?’ Mark asks Rachel.

  Rachel smiles calmly. ‘I say, congratulations! You really deserved the part.’ It’s like an apology for doubting him.

  ‘So, the Jitter Mug?’ Simon asks.

  ‘The Jitter Mug,’ Mark confirms.

  David looks at me, and I know he’s trying not to smile. We’re going to be together without even trying.

  In the Jitter Mug, I share a couch with Rachel and David. Sarah, Mark and Simon take the tub chairs.

  ‘So, well done, you guys,’ Sarah says, raising her smoothie in a sort of ‘cheers’.

  We clink plastic containers.

  ‘I still can’t believe I got Macduff,’ Simon says.

  I think of David who was up for that part. Even though he got Duncan, he must be disappointed. In support, I press my leg against his. He presses his back. Then we’re pressing together and it’s becoming something else. I have to force myself not to look at him.

  ‘Isn’t Rachel the best?’ Sarah says, looking especially at Mark.

  ‘She’s certainly got my vote,’ Mark says.

  Rachel looks uncomfortable.

  ‘She’s been taking acting classes since she was, like, four or something,’ Sarah says. ‘Haven’t you, Rache?’

  ‘Eh, yeah.’ She blushes.

  ‘She’s even auditioned for actual television roles. Haven’t you Rache?’

  ‘Audition
ed, Sarah. Have you actually ever seen me on TV?’

  Sarah widens her eyes at Rachel, as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’

  I am so conscious of David beside me. Of our legs touching. I want to reach out, take his hand and leave with him.

  ‘The great thing is,’ Mark’s saying. ‘I get to murder David in, like, the seventh scene or something.’

  ‘So that’s why you auditioned for the part,’ David says.

  Mark gives him a look.

  ‘And I get to kill Macbeth,’ Simon says, like it’s some kind of victory.

  ‘God. I’m sorry now I didn’t audition,’ Sarah says. ‘It just seems so . . . exciting. All that murder.’

  ‘They’re still auditioning for parts,’ Mark suggests.

  ‘Nah,’ Sarah says, ‘too late now.’

  Going home on the DART, Sarah is not happy.

  ‘What is wrong with you two? You just blew a perfect opportunity. Those guys are seriously caliente.’

  ‘Mark’s a messer,’ Rachel says gloomily.

  ‘A caliente messer,’ Sarah says.

  Rachel sighs. ‘Don’t you get it, Sarah? He’s messing. With me.’

  ‘So mess back. Jeez!’ Sarah says. Then she turns on me.

  ‘And you. You didn’t open your mouth.’ She looks worried.

  ‘I think he might have gone off you, Alex. He didn’t look at you once.’

  My iPhone sounds. A text. From David: ‘Flirt.’

  I realize I’m smiling and make myself stop. And even though I’m itching to reply, I don’t until I’m alone.

  ‘What?’ I text back later.

  ‘Cudn’t keep legs to self.’

  ‘Speak 4 self, perv.’

  Next day, Ms Hall, the drama teacher, is late, so we’re just hanging around the hall. Rachel, Sarah and me are at the back, sitting on a bench. Simon Kelleher comes up to us. And looks at me.

  ‘So, your father’s afraid of women?’

  ‘What?’ And here it is, the fallout.

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard. He’s taken a barring order out against one of his fans. It’s all over the Internet.’

  Heads turn. Could he have said it any louder?

  ‘So?’ I say like I’m bored.

  ‘So. She’s, like, a woman? What’s she going to do, marry him?’