Chasing Butterflies

by Beckie Stevenson

  As I push the gate open, I start to feel bad for thinking like that. It’s not her fault. She’s young and immature. She doesn’t really understand. I have to keep reminding myself that she’s probably still a child. It’s then that I realise that she never answered me when I asked her how old she was.

  I turn back around and see Yara reaching up to pull some of the netting down from the trampoline. Shit, how old is she?

  She has breasts and rounded hips, so she must have been through puberty already, and she wasn’t wearing the school uniform earlier. But she has a really young-looking face.

  The white fabric blows in the breeze, flowing and dancing against Yara’s body, and then the air around her is suddenly full of fluttering butterflies. Like a tornado of beautiful bright colours that sparkle and flap all around until they float away into the sky above her. She twirls, making the hem of her dress fly up, and I see tears falling down her face as she watches them fly further and further away.

  I swallow the horrible lump that’s now stuck in my throat and walk towards my Jeep.

  Yara

  It’s almost dark when I finally go inside, and I feel sick and dizzy from being burnt by the sun. I hate that those girls have managed to make me look like a complete idiot in front of everyone again. And I especially hate that they’ve made me look like an idiot in front of Gabriel.

  I push open the back door, feeling deflated and lonely, and find Granny sitting at the pine table, drinking a glass of whiskey. By the smell of her, I’m guessing that’s not her first one.

  “Who was that boy?” she hisses before I have a chance to say anything.

  I grab a glass from the draining board and walk over to the sink, where I fill my cup with some water. “His name is Gabriel.”

  Granny scoffs. “He might have the name of an angel, but that boy’s got the devil in his soul.”

  “I don’t think so,” I tell her, gulping down the whole glass of water in one go. “He seems nice.” Most of the time.

  “He’s an evil little shit,” she spits. “I forbid you to ever speak to him again.”

  Tears spring to my eyes. Why is she like this? “He’s the only person who speaks to me in this village!” I shriek.

  “He’s evil,” she says, slamming her empty glass down onto the table. “And he’s only talking to you because of some stupid dare or to play a trick on you.”

  I shake my head. Gabriel wouldn’t do that…would he? Please don’t let it be true. “He’s not evil.”

  “I bet he’s asked you loads of questions, hasn’t he?”

  I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “A few, but isn’t that what people do when they’re making new friends? You find out about them. You see what they like and if you like the same things too.”

  Granny stumbles away from the stool and staggers towards the fridge. She pulls it open and peels some ham from out of a pack. “Did he ask you questions about me?”

  I stare at her and the way her thin, grey hair is matted against one side of her face. Her skin is full of wrinkles and it’s saggy in places. Granny is getting really old. “He didn’t ask anything about you. Nothing at all.”

  She slams the fridge door shut and then pours herself another glass of whiskey—straight from the bottle, nothing added—with her shaking, bony hands. “No one wants to be friends with you, Yara. You need to remember that. So tell me why you think this boy has started talking to you? What makes you so special all of a sudden?” I watch her eyes scan my whole body, and then she screws her face up and turns away from me. “You’re disgusting.”

  “Why do you say things like that?” I wail. “You’re supposed to love me, to look after me and make sure that I’m okay.”

  She whips her head around so fast I wonder how she doesn’t get a concussion. “I bet that devil boy asked you to say those things, didn’t he? You’re never so rude. Have you been saying stuff to him that you shouldn’t?”

  I shake my head. “I would never.”

  “Good,” she huffs. “And I don’t think you deserve to be happy or to feel loved. Not when I don’t.”

  I open my mouth but clamp it shut again, staring at her, waiting for her to elaborate. What does that even mean?

  “I’m hungry,” I announce when my stomach gurgles loudly.

  “I’ve cooked you a stew with vegetables. It’s in the oven keeping warm. Not that you deserve it after this little merry dance,” she tells me as she shuffles out of the kitchen and into the darkened hallway. “And stay away from that boy!”

  I slump against the cabinets and rub my sore face. I can’t stay away from him. I won’t.

  I turn to the oven, and when I pull the tray out, a raw piece of meat stares back at me. I frown but lift it onto the hob, where I see pans of uncooked vegetables. I stare at the dials, wondering how I make the oven work, but then I realise that it’s too late to cook it tonight—not that I know how to cook it anyway. And I certainly don’t want to ask Granny.

  Chapter 5

  Gabriel

  I lift the beer bottle to my lips and tip it back, letting the coolness slide straight down my throat. I place the empty bottle back on the bar and nod towards Jonny.

  “Same again?” he asks, clearing the bottle away.

  I nod. “Yeah, why not?”

  He smirks. “What brings you in here anyway?”

  “I have a date,” I tell him, glancing at the door to see if she’s arrived yet.

  “With who?”

  I turn back to him as he places a new bottle of beer in front of me. “Ella Jones.”

  Jonny whistles. “Really? Wow.”

  I raise my eyebrows at him. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

  “I’m not surprised,” he says as he wipes the mahogany bar down with a damp cloth. “It’s just that everyone wanted a piece of Ella Jones at school. Maybe I’m just a little jealous.”

  I shake my head. There’s really no need to be jealous. I don’t even know why I’m here. “She’s late anyway. Maybe she’s going to stand me up.”

  Jonny laughs but then nods towards the door. “She just got here and she’s wearing a dress that doesn’t exactly leave much to the imagination.”

  I grip my beer and twirl around, letting my eyes scan over Ella’s dress. Jonny was right…it’s basically see-through. Her short black hair is cropped at the nape of her neck with pieces of it falling over her eyes. She has tanned skin that is evident through the black mesh of the dress and a black bra that doesn’t hide her cleavage in the least. I can also see that she’s wearing lacy black knickers.

  She sees me and lifts her hand in a wave, then starts to walk towards me.

  “She wants cock,” Jonny says. “And I’m guessing she wants it pretty bad. You lucky bastard.”

  If only you knew. I smirk and watch the way her hips sway as she glides to my side.

  “Hey,” she says, pressing her soft lips against my cheek. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “S’alright,” I say.

  She lifts herself up onto the barstool next to mine and leans forward on her elbow, almost shoving her breasts in my face.

  “What do you want to drink?” I ask while Jonny practically drools over her.

  “Martini, please,” she replies.

  “Shaken or stirred?” asks Jonny as he smirks at her.

  “Shaken,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him.

  He grins at me before turning around to make her drink. I watch her as she watches him pouring from the bottle.

  Ella Jones has always been one of those girls. The popular ones that got exactly what they wanted, when they wanted it. She’s undeniably hot but she knows it, and that’s a little bit of a turn-off for me.

  “There you go,” says Jonny, sliding the drink to her.

  “Thanks,” she says with a wink.

  “So,” I breathe, clinking my bottle against her glass, “I guess we should toast to our date.”

  Ella smiles. She has nice teeth.

  “To our da
te,” she says. She has one of those sultry voices that would sound good coming down a phone line. The sort of line that men never want their wives to know they’ve been calling.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to since school,” I say.

  She grins and looks excited as she puts her glass down and places her hand on my thigh.

  “I went to college,” she tells me, “and studied business and accounting. I also went to lots of parties and figured out how to make men happy.”

  Jonny raises his eyebrows at me from behind her and I subtly shake my head to let him know he needs to back off. I don’t want him encouraging this. I don’t need any help in making mistakes these days.

  I’ve kind of tuned Ella out. She’s basically chewed my ear off for over an hour and I’m a little bored of hearing about the galas she and her family go to and how her Daddy does more than enough for charity, putting other people to shame. I’m tired of listening to the stories about her boyfriends and how awful they were for her…how they didn’t look after her or make her feel like they wanted her. I feel like telling her I wouldn’t be much better.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” she whispers into my ear. She presses herself against me, forcing her breasts and hip up against my arm.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask.

  She raises her eyebrow. “To yours?”

  I shake my head and pull some money out of my wallet to pay for all of our drinks. Jonny grins at me as he takes it. “I don’t have a place. I’m living back home for a while.”

  “Oh,” she says, pursing her lips. “Let’s just go for a drive then.”

  “I can’t drive,” I say, “you’ve just watched me drink three bottles of beer.”

  She hiccups and then giggles. “Oh, yeah. I did.”

  I smirk and tug on her arm. “Come on. Let’s find a taxi and I’ll take you home.”

  She sighs but lets me lead her across the sticky floor. “I didn’t have anything to eat,” she tells me. “Those four martinis just went straight to my head.”

  “I thought as much.”

  She laughs and links her arm through mine, letting her other arm swing by her side. “So where have you been, Gabriel?”

  “What do you mean?” I pull open the old wooden door that squeaks and whines and guide her outside.

  “You disappeared for four years after school. Where did you go?”

  I feel my shoulders stiffen. “Nowhere.”

  “Oh, come on…” She giggles, lifting her light brown eyes up to mine. “You had to have been somewhere.”

  “I just wanted to get out of this stupid little village,” I tell her, hoping she’ll shut up about it. “I was young. I thought anywhere else was better than here.”

  She doesn’t shut up about it. “I bet it was, but that doesn’t explain why you came back. And no one dares to run from this village when they’re only sixteen.”

  I roll my eyes and then scan across the car park, looking for a place where we can sit and wait for a taxi. “Well, I did.”

  She flicks away a short piece of hair that keeps hanging over her eyes. “And you’re back for good?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Was it London?”

  I frown and direct her towards a low brick wall where we can wait for the taxi. “No.”

  “That’s where I’m going,” she tells me confidently as she sits down on the wall. “I’m going to get a job at a top firm on Canary Wharf, and I’m going to earn a shitload of money.”

  “I’m sure you will,” I say for no other reason than to appease her.

  “So…” She hiccups again. “You won’t tell me where you went, but why did you come ba—?”

  I step forward, placing myself in between her thighs, and cup my hands around her face. Her wide, shocked eyes flick to mine for a second, and then I dip my head and crush my lips to hers. She groans into my mouth and I feel her tongue dipping in, searching, seeking mine out until she finds it, and then her hands are under my shirt, brushing across my nipples.

  “Oh, Gabriel,” she murmurs against my lips as she snakes her hands around my back. She drags her nails down my skin, causing shivers to take over my whole body.

  I try my best to kiss her properly. I move my lips at the right time and let my tongue dance with hers as I press myself against her. But it’s not enough. I don’t really want to be doing this, and I especially don’t want to be doing it with Ella Jones.

  Something flickers against my temple just as that thought slithers out of my mind. I tear my mouth away from her and turn to find a butterfly fluttering around my head.

  Ella shrieks and starts to bat it away. “Eek, a moth!”

  “It’s a butterfly,” I tell her, smiling at her scared face. What’s a butterfly doing out at this time of night?

  “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip and looks up at me through her black lashes.

  I turn away from her, trying to focus on the little fluttering insect, and I think about Yara. Thinking about Yara makes me realise how different she is from Ella. How young. How delicate.

  I sigh. I know thinking about Yara like this is wrong—for more than one reason. She’s younger than me by at least a couple of years, and even though she seems pretty normal to me, I know there could be some truth to the rumours about her mental state. And don’t even get me started on the stories about how she killed her mother. How do I even broach that subject with her to find out what really happened?

  “What’re you thinking about?”

  I turn back towards Ella and shake my head. “Nothing.”

  She smiles. “That’s a lie. But that’s okay because I’m going to make you forget all about it.”

  What?

  Without saying anything, she drops to her knees in front of me and pulls my zip down.

  Yara

  I wriggle in between the sheets one last time before I chuck them off me in anger. I can’t get comfy because I’m hot, but it’s mainly because I can’t stop thinking about Gabriel. It’s been a couple of days since I last saw him and my head has been full of him.

  Full of the way he looked when the sun was setting on his face. Full of the way his concerned eyes raked all over my body when I woke up. And the thing I can’t stop thinking about is how upset he looked with me the other night. I kind of wish I hadn’t said anything to him about how I thought he was flapping to get away.

  I bolt up in bed when I hear the floorboards creaking outside my bedroom. “Who’s there?” I call.

  My heart hammers in my chest as the memories stream through my head like a stream slides down a mountain. I sit there, as still as a statue, listening and praying for my Granny to call out that it’s her so I can go back to sleep and not worry.

  “Granny?” I whisper. “Is that you?” My jaw quivers and I can feel my breath cooling my hot lips as my breaths wheeze in and out of my lungs. Just go away. Please go away.

  Silence.

  I pull the covers up to my chin and tuck my knees to my chest. My hands shake as I wrap them around my legs. Tears leak out of my eyes and snake all the way down my cheeks before creeping into the corners of my mouth.

  The floorboard creaks again, making me jump and tremble all at the same time, and then I see a shadow through the gap underneath my door. Who is it?

  My stomach churns, but I know I can’t stay in bed. I have to see who’s outside my room. I slip out of bed, pushing my nightie down my thighs as I tiptoe across my room. When I rest my ear against the door, I can hear the wind rattling down the corridor, bouncing off the bare, crumbling walls.

  “Granny, is that you? Are you okay?” I breathe.

  I know my fear is irrational. I know what I used to be terrified of doesn’t exist anymore, but it still doesn’t stop my hand from trembling as I grab the doorknob. My cleavage is slick with sweat and my throat feels thick and dry, making me feel sick to my stomach when I pull the door open a fraction.

  “Granny?” I whisper.

  I close my eyes, suck i
n a deep breath and then step out into the cool hallway. The air at night isn’t normally this cold and it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The wind howls as it blows in through the broken window frame, and it swirls all around me, forcing the hem of my nightie to lift upwards.

  The creaking of the floorboard underneath my toes as I walk down the hallway makes me grit my teeth, the noise vibrating through my jaw and into my head. Who was outside my door?

  I scream when a cold hand clasps my shoulder. I whirl around, gasping, and then I’m slammed against the wall so hard that is causes bits of plaster to sprinkle all over my head.

  “What have I told you about staying in your room at night, Yara? What do I always tell you?”

  Granny’s eyes are wild and scary, and my whole chest is rising and falling as I try to control my breathing. “I heard a noise,” I pant.

  “It was me, you silly girl.” She grabs my shoulders and pulls at me until I’m forced to walk with her. She’s hobbling and shuffling across the floor like the old lady that she is, but she’s still as strong as an ox.

  “I can walk,” I tell her, trying to wriggle out of her grip. “What were you doing in the hallway anyway?”

  Ignoring me, she pushes my bedroom door open and shoves me into my room. “Stay in here until the sun rises. You know the fucking rule.”

  Chapter 6

  Gabriel

  I stare up at the ceiling, trying to ignore her. The room is spinning, or at least it feels that way because of the beer coursing through my veins. When I sit up in bed, I have to wait a few seconds for the dizziness to subside. Reaching over to the bedside table, I grab my glass of water and drain the whole thing in one go. Then I glance at the clock. What the hell is she doing here at this time?