The Whale, The Goldfish and Señor Martin: A Short Story Prequel to The Butterfly Novels

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The Whale, The Goldfish and Señor Martin: A Short Story Prequel to The Butterfly Novels Page 2

by Denise Deegan


  'Are you crazy?' Alex asks.

  'Nope.' She's already standing. Before we know it, she's gone.

  Alex looks at me. 'Who is this person?'

  I laugh, like I'm totally carefree. Inside, I'm thinking, is this falling apart already?

  Sarah's reached his table. He's glancing up from his lunch. She's chatting away, hands all over the place. Oh God. They're looking over. She's talking about us.

  Alex and I look back at each other.

  'Jesus,' Alex says. 'She's no shame.'

  'Alex! Rachel!' Sarah calls across the canteen with a big arm wave.

  The whole school is looking.

  'Just wave back,' Alex says.

  We raise our hands slightly. And stay put.

  Finally, she comes marching over. She stands at the table squinting at Alex. 'Are you seriously JJ Newman's daughter?'

  'Does it matter?' Alex asks, quietly and kind of narked.

  'Oh my God, you are! Simon was right.' She looks back at him, then at Alex again. 'Come on over, he wants an intro.'

  Alex looks straight at her. 'Sit down, Sarah.'

  Too surprised to do anything else, Sarah sits. 'What?'

  Alex looks at her like she's trying to be patient. 'OK, would you hang out with someone who only wants to know you because of who your dad is?' She drops her chin and raises her eyebrows. 'Seriously?'

  Sarah lets that sink in, then she grimaces. 'Sorry. I didn't think.' She looks over at Simon Kelleher. 'He is a nice guy, though.'

  'Leave at any time,' Alex says.

  'That's not what I meant. I'm happy here.'

  'You sure?' Alex asks. 'Cause I'm not my dad. I'm just me, yeah?'

  I'd be just as sensitive if I was her. Actually worse. That's when I decide that I like her. Really like her.

  Sarah's squinting at her. 'Can we just start again?'

  And I love that she has the balls to ask that. If I was Sarah, I'd be gone.

  They're not in any of my afternoon classes. And I make my way home on the DART alone.

  'How did it go?' Mum asks, the minute I get in, her eagerness like a dark blanket being thrown over me.

  'I got detention,' I say, to distract her.

  She looks alarmed. 'How? Why? What did you do?'

  I tell her.

  Her face brightens. 'That sounds promising.' I've two brothers but I'm the goldfish in the tank, being watched to see how I get on with all the other goldfish.

  'I'm going up to change.'

  'I'll have something ready when you come down.'

  The thing is, I don't want to come down. They nearly split up over what happened me, each of them wanting to handle things differently, both of them failing. Now I don't just have to find friends for me. I have to find friends to keep them together. I have to succeed. Be happy. So they can be.

  In the morning, I see Alex on the DART. She's talking to another girl from our school who looks freakishly like Emma Stone. Neither of them sees me and I kind of hide behind a woman who's putting on make up so I don't look like a loner. I take out my iPhone and listen to waves. I imagine my hero gliding ever forward. Is he going in the right direction, though? Or further away from her? Maybe the scientists are right; maybe he does need help.

  I don't have Religion or Spanish today. I kind of hoped it wouldn't matter. But of course it does. To get to know people, you have to see them. And while you're not seeing them, they're getting to know other people. And the next time you do see them, they won't have room for you. Stop thinking, Rachel. Just stop thinking.

  I'm closing my locker and heading to my first class when Amy Gilmore, the atheist, and her friend (Orla something?) come up to me.

  'Hey, Rachel,' Amy chirps like maybe I'm cool?

  I remember my accidental rebellion in Religion yesterday. I feel like telling her that she's got it wrong. I'm not cheeky. I'm not a rebel. I'm not cool.

  'Hey,' I just say. Because I'm not a complete eejit.

  'How about Alex Newman stealing your star sign idea yesterday?'

  Is she choosing to get it wrong? I squint at her. 'I think she was just making a point.'

  'Yeah but how lame was it, everyone copying her just because of who she is?'

  OK, she is choosing to get it wrong. 'Weren't they just making the same point?'

  She stares at me like she's pissed that I haven't joined her hate fest. 'No wonder you've no friends,' she says at the top of her voice. Her hair swishes like a slap on the face as she turns and walks off.

  There it is, the first stab to my heart. Didn't think it would come so soon. As people turn to look, I remind myself to breathe, like the psychologist told me to do. Don't take it personally, Rachel; it's what bullies do when you stand up to them. The only problem is, what she said still hurts. Because it's true. I want to walk out of the school, go straight to the beach and dive under the waves. But the school will contact my parents and they'll have a meltdown. So I stay.

  Head down, I keep to myself. I don't try with anyone. Because I don't want to look like I'm trying. Anyway I don't feel like trying, right now. Possibly ever.

  Next day, I force myself to go back in. On the DART, Alex Newman is talking to that same girl and I give up on us ever being friends. At the lockers, Amy Gilmore is bitching about me to her friend and making the whole thing obvious.

  I go from class to class, trying to focus on what the teachers are saying. But I don't care that plant cells have a wall or that the Capulets hated the Montagues or what tools an archaeologist uses at a dig. I don't care about anything except getting out of here at the end of the day.

  Religion is just before lunch. I walk in and stop. Sarah's laughing with Amy Gilmore and her mate. I don't think they're laughing at me because they don't look over. I've never wanted to be home-schooled more in my life.

  I take my seat, open my book, lean on my arm and doodle. An octopus. A starfish. A fish. A whale. And lots and lots of air bubbles. I can feel my heart hammering. If I was fifty, I'd worry I was having a heart attack. I draw wave after wave after wave.

  When the bell finally goes, Amy's first up. Sarah's right behind her. If I leave now, we'll come face to face. I drop my pen on the floor. I take ages to find it. When I surface, Sarah's standing beside my desk. Alone.

  'Hey, Rachel,' she says, all friendly.

  'Oh, hey!' My surprise sounds genuine. I hope.

  'You coming to lunch?'

  My heart lifts. Then plummets as Amy arrives back by her side. She folds her arms and gives me a look.

  I'd rather be on my own than with haters. 'Nah. It's OK thanks.'

  Sarah looks surprised.

  'God, she's so stuck up,' Amy says, then turns and walks off, a specialty of hers it seems.

  Sarah stands looking at me for a moment like she doesn't get me, then she shrugs and follows Amy out.

  I spend lunch break in the toilets, too sick to be hungry.

  Friday and I've decided not to let Amy Gilmore win – at least not without a fight. After double Art and Maths, I make myself go to the canteen. In the queue, I promise myself that I'm going to sit with someone. Anyone. But when I turn with my tray to a room full of strangers, my heart starts to pound and my breathing goes shallow and fast. I'm breaking into a sweat. Another public rejection might actually kill me.

  So I sit alone and play with food I'm not hungry for. My first day here was too good to be true. I knew that. Already, a pattern has been set. Alex has a friend and Sarah's hanging out with Amy Gilmore. I tell myself it's fine. I'll find a friend. Someone I can trust not to turn on me. Oh God. I just want it to be tomorrow, to be underwater, on my own.

  Someone's pulling out the seat opposite me. I look up. It's Simon Kelleher, the guy who claims to sit with dorks. I feel like laughing, suddenly.

  He smiles. 'Hey.'

  'Hey,' I say like I'm not surprised.

  He rips open his ketchup sachet and squidges it over his chips. 'So you know Alex Newman?'

  OK, so now I get it. 'Nope.' I g
o back to my lunch.

  'You looked pretty cosy the other day.'

  I look up. 'So I sat with her at lunch – once. I don't know her.'

  'From your limited experience, what's she like?' He pops a chip in his mouth.

  'She's sitting over there if you want to find out.' I point with a fork.

  He smiles. 'Nah, it's OK.' I expect him to leave but he doesn't. 'So, you're Rachel?'

  'Yup.'

  'Libra, right?'

  I nod.

  'Anything else I should know?'

  I give him a look. 'My dad's not a celebrity?'

  'Ouch.' He chuckles. 'OK so despite that mega disadvantage, what else should I know about you?'

  What can I say? My favourite pastime is calling to whales? 'Nothing really.'

  He smiles. 'You're not making this easy.'

  I shrug. What does he want?

  'Let's see. What's your favourite Family Guy character?'

  'Seriously?'

  'Seriously.'

  I try not to smile. Because I love Family Guy. 'Peter.'

  'And your favourite movie?' he asks like it's the next question in a survey of student behaviour.

  I've no idea why I tell him. 'The Sixth Sense.'

  'Iiiinteresting.'

  'You haven't actually seen it, have you?'

  'Eh. No.'

  I laugh.

  'Where did you go to school?' he asks. All he's missing is a clipboard.

  'Where did you go?'

  'Here,' he says simply. 'The junior school.'

  'Here?'

  'Yeah. Why so surprised?'

  I'm not exactly going to point out that he eats alone a lot for someone who went here.

  'Ah, I get it,' he says. 'You're wondering why I sit on my own sometimes.'

  I shrug.

  'Easy. I'm a nomad. I choose to be on my own, to move around, stick with no one person.'

  'Why would you do that?'

  'To be free to go wherever I want, talk to whoever you want, be alone whenever I want, not tied to anyone or any group.' He shrugs. 'I don't usually explain it.'

  I know I'm staring but I can't help it. What he's saying is huge. If a loner turned into a nomad, she wouldn't be a loser anymore. She'd be a free spirit, an adventurer. In control of her life. I smile. 'Thank you.'

  'For what?'

  'For the nomad idea. I like it.'

  He beams. 'Really? No one ever gets it.

  'Makes total sense to me.'

  'Cool.' He lifts his can of Cidona. 'Cheers.'

  I lift my Coke. 'Cheers.'

  OK, by definition, he's never going to be a friend. But that's OK; nomads don't need friends.

  Saturday morning, rebel that I'm not, I arrive at detention before even the teacher. I'm waiting outside a locked classroom when Alex and Sarah appear. Together.

  'Why didn't you come to lunch with me yesterday?' Sarah asks me – no sunshine, no bubbles, no laughter.

  I look, in surprise, at the hurt in her eyes. 'You were with Amy Gilmore.'

  'So?'

  'So, what does she actually talk about when she's not bitching about me or...' I look at Alex. '...whoever else she bitches about.'

  Sarah looks uncomfortable.

  Alex turns to her. 'Did she say something about me?'

  'Not really. She's just jealous.'

  Alex squints at her. 'Why would you hang out with someone like that?'

  'She can be funny?' Sarah tries.

  'Until she's talking about you,' I point out. 'Look, Amy Gilmore's a bitch and I don't hang out with bitches, no matter who they're with. Sorry.' I sound so confident. Maybe everyone does when they've had enough.

  Sarah makes a face. 'I don't know why I'm defending her. Sometimes I think there's something wrong with me.'

  'Why're you hanging out with her?' Alex asks.

  Sarah shrugs. 'It's not like we're mates. She's in a lot of my classes.'

  The teacher arrives and starts to unlock the classroom. She looks at the three of us. 'So what did you lot do?' she asks like we're pussycats.

  We look at each other. It's Sarah who tells her.

  She laughs and suddenly looks pretty and young and not so teachery.

  Almost immediately, the note-passing begins.

  Sarah: the best day here was the first

  Alex: your amazing note-swallowing act was hard to follow

  Sarah: I took my life in my hands for you guys

  Me: we'll be forever grateful

  Alex: yeah, thanks to you, Señor Martin will never know we think he's hot

  Me: unless he talks to the person at the top of this classroom

  Sarah: or opens his eyes and sees everyone drooling

  Me: is he actually hot, tho? Like what hot guy says, 'yo'?

  Alex: true

  Sarah: he's still hot

  We all look at each other and smile. Because, moody or otherwise, Señor Martin is still caliente.

  We walk out into the light.

  'So who's that Emma Stone double you've been hanging out with?' Sarah asks Alex.

  Alex makes a face. 'Oh. Yeah.'

  'What do you mean, “Oh. Yeah”?' Sarah asks.

  Alex sighs. 'I guess she started out as someone who didn't care who my dad was.'

  'Aaand?' Sarah asks, like there's dirt.

  'I don't know. She doesn't really care who anyone is... because she's kind of into herself?'

  We laugh.

  'If I have to listen to another one of her dreams I might just die.' Alex grimaces, like she's just heard herself bitching. 'She's fine. I guess. You know, as people go.'

  'No she's not,' Sarah says. Then she looks at me. 'So. You're the only one of us who has the cojones to hang out on her own.'

  They're both looking at me like I know what I'm doing. I feel like laughing. Then the weirdest thing. A voice rises inside me, a voice of unusual frequency, a confident, persistent voice that doesn't fear rejection. 'Have you heard of the loneliest whale in the world?'

  They shake their heads, looking a bit confused.

  So I tell them about him.

  Sarah touches her heart. 'That's the saddest thing I've ever heard.'

  Alex slips between us and links our arms. The three of us walk in step.

  It feels so amazing that I go right out on another limb. 'Hey. Let's go to the Jitter Mug Cafe in Blackrock.'

  Sarah looks at me in surprise. 'Jesus, I've actually money – for a change.'

  We laugh.

  Then Alex turns to me. 'Or maybe we could go to Killiney Beach and swim?'

  And right there and then, I know. My call has been answered.

  THE END

  Also by Denise Deegan:

  And By The Way: A Butterfly Novel (#1)

  And For Your Information: A Butterfly Novel (#2)

  And Actually: A Butterfly Novel (#3)

  Tweet the author: @denisedeegan

  http://www.butterflynovels.com/

  Become a fan on www.facebook.com/butterflynovels

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