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

by Denise Deegan

  ‘You’re minding a dog?’

  ‘I’m running a pet-minding business.’

  ‘Really?’ He laughs. ‘That’s wonderful.’

  ‘You don’t like dogs, Dad.’

  ‘No. But you do.’ He clears his throat. ‘So, would you like to go for a bite to eat?’

  I think about that. Mum wouldn’t have to cook. She could go out. ‘OK, yeah. Thanks.’

  ‘Great. It’s a date. I’ll call you during the week. How’s everything going?’

  ‘Fine, yeah, good.’

  ‘Good, good. Excellent. So I’ll give you a ring in the next day or two.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’

  NINETEEN | CURLY WURLY

  Paco arrives. And I start trying to remember my Spanish. I text Rachel and Alex to say he’s here. They want to come over. Mum’s been in such good form lately, I decide to risk it. I really do want them to see him.

  It’s hilarious. With all the attention he’s getting, Paco has started acting like a celebrity, holding his head up and trotting around like he owns the place. He deserves celebrity status, though. He knows all the tricks. Fetching. Giving the paw. Rolling over. Like, hours of entertainment in one dog.

  Mum, busy taking photos, is not acting like she thinks my friends are a bad influence. And I begin to relax about them being here.

  Finally, we let Paco into the back garden to calm down. We’ve kind of made him hyper. We pour some juice and sit around for a while. Mum wanders off.

  I tell them about Simon.

  ‘You OK?’ Rachel asks.

  ‘Kind of relieved actually.’

  ‘Was he OK about it?’ Alex asks.

  ‘Pretty much. No one likes being dumped, right?’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘He wants to tell everyone he broke it off.’

  ‘What? You’re kidding!’ Rachel says.

  ‘I don’t mind.’

  ‘You’re going along with it? Why?’ She sounds like I’ve lost it.

  I shrug. ‘Life’s too short.’

  They look at each other like the world’s flipped. I know why. My reputation used to be my big thing.

  ‘Shane is going to die,’ I say. I tell them everything. ‘The thing that really pisses me off is the girlfriend. I mean what kind of person drops you when you get sick?’

  ‘Maybe she didn’t love him,’ Alex says.

  ‘Or maybe she’s just a selfish cow,’ I say. I look at Rachel. ‘Would you stay with Mark?’

  She nods. ‘Yeah, I’d stay.’

  I look at Alex. ‘Would you?’

  ‘Well, yeah, I would now. But early on, I don’t know. Watching someone die kind of kills you, Sarah. I don’t think you can judge a person until you’re in that position.’

  ‘I’d stay,’ I say, ‘if it was someone I loved.’ I’m absolutely sure about that.

  ‘No offence, Sarah, but you have a kind of romantic view of love. Sometimes it’s hard, you know?’

  I say nothing. What can I say? I’ve never been in love.

  Monday morning, I’m at my locker. Simon walks past and ignores me.

  Fine, I think. Be like that.

  I wait for Rachel and Alex. Together we go to the Home Economics room where we’re due to start a week-long cookery course. We’re late and everyone’s pretty much there, huddled into the usual groups. Simon’s talking to Amy and Orla. They look at me. It’s like the subject of the conversation has just turned up. I feel like asking Simon a) when he turned into a girl and b) what age he is. But I just smile like I don’t care.

  The instructor turns up, someone from outside school. Incredibly good looking. Like Taylor Swift.

  ‘Ten out of ten,’ Simon says, loud enough for everyone to hear. It’s like he’s trying to be a lad, or something.

  The instructor ignores him, introducing herself to the class with a voice like honey.

  ‘What about your number?’ Greg Black says.

  ‘Grow up, Greg,’ Mark says, like he’s the mature one. If we were in the wild, they’d be fighting over her.

  She acts like she doesn’t notice. She tells us she’s going to teach us to make French toast. If she’d said we were going to climb Everest, she’d have every guy in the class queuing up. Including Mark. She wants us to cook in pairs and chooses those pairs alphabetically. I’m with Amy.

  Great, I think as she walks over. Her smile is mean and there’s something behind it. So I ignore her, just watch Taylor Swift show us how to make French toast.

  ‘Lick your fingers,’ Greg whispers. ‘Go on, lick your fingers.’

  I’m about to turn round and tell him to shut up when Amy whispers one word. ‘Slag.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I can’t believe you two-timed Simon.’

  ‘What?’ Oh my God. ‘Is that what he said?’

  ‘The guy’s on your Facebook page, Sarah.’

  I stare over at Simon. Does he really think I’m going out with Shane? Or is he just making this up to get at me? One thing: I feel no loyalty to protect his story now.

  ‘Look, Amy, believe what you want. But, for the record, I ended it with Simon. Because Simon is Simon. Not because there was anyone else involved.’

  ‘He said he ended it,’ she says, like she doesn’t believe me.

  ‘Simon says a lot of things. Doesn’t mean they’re true.’

  In the canteen, the rumour spreads. It comes back to us via Mark, who joins our table to warn me.

  ‘It’s OK. I know. He thinks I’m going out with this friend of mine.’

  ‘Who?’ Rachel and Alex ask together.

  I shrug. ‘Shane.’

  They stare at me.

  ‘We talk on Facebook so we’re, like, going out or something.’ I roll my eyes.

  ‘Who’s Shane?’ Mark asks.

  ‘Oh just this friend from outside school.’ I don’t mention the wheelchair or the home because they do not sum up my friendship with Shane.

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ Alex says.

  I don’t know if it’s crazy because she knows I wouldn’t two-time someone or crazy because Shane’s in a wheelchair. Or both.

  ‘You better do something,’ Rachel says.

  I look over at Simon, the idiot. ‘He’ll get tired of it.’

  ‘He mightn’t,’ Rachel says.

  ‘Then people will get tired of listening. ‘I mean, what more is there to say? He ended it because I two-timed him. End of story.’

  ‘Yeah but it is a story. It is a lie.’

  ‘And it’s your reputation,’ Alex says.

  ‘No one’s dying, though, are they?’

  Alex looks at me for a long time. ‘You’ve changed,’ she says, like it’s a good thing.

  I was worried how I’d be with Shane, but when I see him waiting for me outside the home with his cap on like it’s just a good day for a walk, I know it’s going to be OK. I smile and wave.

  ‘Yo,’ he says.

  ‘Yo, yourself.’ And I just want to hug him.

  ‘Ready to go?’ he asks.

  ‘Sure. You checked with Christina?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Cool.’

  We’re off.

  ‘Can’t stay too long today,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to get back to Paco.’

  ‘You see, with a snake you wouldn’t have that problem.’

  ‘No. I’d have the frozen mouse problem.’

  ‘They’re frozen. What can they do?’

  I smile and am so glad to be here, chatting like normal.

  ‘So any news?’ he asks.

  ‘Actually, yeah. I ended it with Simon.’

  He looks at me and smiles. ‘Excellent move.’

  ‘Feels like it.’

  ‘Was he devastated?’

  ‘No.’ I think about school. ‘But no one likes being dumped, right?’

  He stares ahead like he’s remembering something.

  Suddenly, I’m angry. ‘I can’t believe your girlfriend left just because you got sick.�
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  He stops wheeling and looks at me. ‘I ended it with Emma.’

  He did? ‘Why?’

  ‘What kind of life would it have been for her, watching me shrivel away?’

  ‘Yeah but you didn’t have to end it. You could have let her decide to stay or go.’

  ‘She’d have stayed – out of guilt. I didn’t want that. So don’t blame her. It was my idea.’

  ‘She didn’t have to listen to you. She could have kept showing up, kept coming, climbed up on that chair of yours and snogged you to death until you changed your mind.’

  He laughs. ‘Is that what you’d do?’

  ‘If I loved the person. Absolutely.’

  He looks at me. ‘You’re a good person.’

  ‘You know I’m not.’

  ‘I know you are.’

  I smile. He has this incredible knack of making me feel good about myself.

  We stop at the shop for treats. I take a photo of him eating a Curly Wurly. He looks so cheeky with the hat and everything.

  ‘Can I put it up on Facebook?’ I ask.

  He makes a face.

  I show him the picture. ‘Come on, it’s a great shot.’

  ‘All right, go on then.’

  Back at the home, Christina asks Shane if he’s got her pen.

  ‘Oh God, sorry, I left it in my room. I’ll go get it.’

  ‘Can I come?’ I’d love to see his room.

  It’s beige and modern and spacious with big windows and an en suite. It’s kind of calm or something? But it could be anyone’s. No posters. No gadgets. Nothing to show it’s his.

  ‘It’s nice,’ I say.

  He shrugs. ‘It’s home.’

  I remember what Mary Gleeson said, but I don’t ask about his family and why he’s not with them.

  ‘Hey. I’m glad I told you.’

  ‘Me too.’ I put my hand on his so he knows it makes no difference.

  ‘Wow, you just made history.’

  ‘How?’ I smile.

  ‘You’re the first non-medical person to touch me since I got sick.’

  I lose the smile.

  ‘People are afraid I’ll break. Or something.’

  I look him in the eye and squeeze his hand. Hard. ‘I’m not afraid.’

  TWENTY | CONSUELA

  It’s lovely to come home to a welcome. Paco’s jumping up on me and barking, his tail lashing around. We go out to the garden and play. For ages. I brush him, give him fresh water and food, then decide I better get rid of the doggy smell and all his hairs or it might be the end of my business. I open all the windows and take out the hoover. Paco trots around beside me. Little pal.

  I finish up. Now that the floor’s clean, though, the rest of the place looks manky. I get out the Pledge. It reminds me of Consuela in Family Guy.

  I look at Paco. ‘We have no more Lemon Pledge,’ I say in a Mexican accent.

  He goes mental, barking and jumping, like he knows I’m messing. Genius dog.

  He follows me up to my room. (It’ll be our little secret.) I upload all my recent photos onto Facebook. I put him on my lap and show him himself. Then I click on the photo of Shane.

  ‘This is the person I talk to when I get in from school,’ I say. It’s been so great coming home to Shane every day, instead of an empty house. He’s the one person I can talk to, be myself with – totally. He knows everything about me and it’s, like, so what? He wants me to be blunt, not careful, around him, say whatever pops into my mind. And I do. Funny thing is, when I’m not being cautious, I make less mistakes. I’ve never had this kind of friendship with a guy before. I never thought it possible. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.

  I check to see if he’s on chat – and am disappointed when he isn’t. He’s probably having dinner, I decide. And anyway, we’ve seen each other already today.

  I get up and fuss over Paco. I try to teach him to play dead but it’s a bit tricky. In the end, I give up and lie on the floor beside him. I look around my room. And think of Shane’s. And how bare it is. Then I’m running downstairs to get one of the high stools. I lug it upstairs. Then I climb up on it and start to take down some of the luminous stars from my ceiling. I also remove the crystal that hangs in my Velux window and breaks the light into tiny rainbows. I wrap them up and put them in my school bag.

  Later I’m at the kitchen table, trying (genuinely) to study, when Mum comes in late. Paco runs to her. She bends down and smiles at him.

  ‘Look at you. Look, at, you,’ she says in the kind of voice you use with babies, ‘giving me a big welcome home.’ She looks up at me, still smiling. ‘Have we any treats for him? What are you smiling at?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She’s turning into such a softie. I give her the bag of treats. She throws him one. He jumps, four legs in the air, and catches it. Mum looks at me as if to say, ‘did you see that?’ Then she notices the kitchen.

  ‘Have you been cleaning?’

  ‘A bit.’

  Her face softens. ‘Aw, thanks, Sarah. That was really thoughtful.’

  I know why I cleaned up and feel a bit guilty. ‘Why don’t you go up and have a shower or something and I’ll make some French toast for dinner?’

  ‘Can you make French toast?’

  ‘We learned in school today. It’s pimps.’

  She looks at me like I’ve changed. Which is funny because she’s the one who’s changed. ‘What a treat. Thank you.’

  She heads off.

  I put on some sounds and get out the eggs. And it’s so lovely, just pottering around with the dog at my feet. I make a salad to go with the French toast. By the time Mum comes back, I’ve everything set out on the table.

  ‘This looks amazing.’ She kisses the top of my head (wow!) then sits beside me and looks down at Paco.

  ‘So. How’s our baby?’

  I smile at the ‘our’. ‘He’s gorgeous. I want to keep him.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Next morning, at my locker, Simon walks up to me. He reaches up to the top of my door and holds it. He’s towering over me. I take a step back.

  ‘What?’

  ‘See you’ve got a new photo on Facebook.’

  ‘I’ve loads of new photos on Facebook.’

  ‘You know the one I mean.’

  ‘Actually, I don’t.’ But I do. I collect my books in my arms. ‘Could you take your hand off please? I need to close my locker.’

  He takes his hand away. I lock up.

  He’s still there. ‘You could have waited,’ he says.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘You didn’t have to sneak around behind my back. You could have ended it first.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘That guy, Shane.’

  ‘Oh my God, Simon. Shane is a friend. When are you going to get that?’ I could tell him that Shane’s in a wheelchair and that would be the end of it. But I’m not doing that to Shane.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ he says. ‘It’s not Rachel he talks to on Facebook. It’s you.’

  I shrug. ‘If you don’t want to believe me, then don’t believe me. There’s nothing I can do about it.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry.’

  ‘I’m already sorry – that I went out with you.’

  ‘Ooh burn,’ says Rachel, coming up to stand by me.

  He walks off.

  ‘Oh my God,’ I say. ‘How did I ever go out with him? Seriously?’

  ‘He’s got worse, Sarah. He really wasn’t that bad.’ I know she’s just being kind. ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘We better go.’

  We look over at Alex. She’s at her locker, staring into space.

  We go over.

  ‘Don’t tell me you missed that?’ Rachel says.

  ‘What?’ she asks like we’ve woken her up.

  We look at each other. She missed the whole thing.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, wanting to forget about it.

  We’re walking from the locker room when one of the nerds comes up to us.r />
  ‘You’re so right, Sarah.’

  I squint. ‘What?’

  ‘That guy. On Facebook. So much more caliente than Simon.’

  I think two things. Oh my God. They’re starting to use ‘caliente’. And when is this going to end?

  On the way home on the DART, we’re coming to my stop. I stand up.

  ‘So, I’ll see you later,’ I say to Alex.

  She looks like she’s coming out of a coma. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Aren’t we going to walk Paco and Homer?’

  ‘Oh God. I’m sorry. I’d totally forgotten.’ She looks like she’s thinking. ‘Can we do it another time? I’m kinda tired.’

  I shrug. ‘Sure.’

  I see Rachel looking at her. But neither of us says anything. I go home. First thing I do is let Paco out. Second thing is remove Simon as a friend on Facebook. Normally, I’d talk to Shane but, after being in all day, Paco really needs a walk. I put on his lead and we’re off. He trots along and though he doesn’t say anything (obviously) he’s great company. Peaceful, or something. We walk for ages. When we get back, we do our tidy-up routine. I hoover. Paco provides the backing vocals.

  I go up to my room to chat with Shane. I plan to make it quick, though, because the exams are now only weeks away.

  We start to chat and end up on the phone. He tells me that some of his mates called round to say hi.

  ‘That’s great,’ I say, so happy that he’s hooking up with them again, hooking up with his old life.

  ‘It was good to see them. But they didn’t know what to say. It was awkward. None of the usual stuff we talk about came up – rugby, girls – and I’m pretty sure it’s because I can’t do any of that anymore. I should have just invited Peter.’

  ‘Peter?’

  ‘My closest mate, I guess. We go back. He’s pretty cool with illness and stuff. His little sister has cerebral palsy.’

  I don’t ask what that is because I’ve enough with motor neurone disease.

  ‘So how are you?’ he asks.

  ‘Yeah, OK. Simon’s being a bit of a prick. He thinks I was two-timing him.’ I decide to just admit it. ‘With you.’

  He bursts out laughing. ‘Does he know I’m in a wheelchair?’ he asks, like he’s still amused.

  ‘He doesn’t know anything about you except that you’re my friend on Facebook.’