Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  His car kept pace with my steps. I noticed him incline his chin, like he was checking me out. “I think you look just fine. Girls are too skinny these days.”

  I quickened my pace.

  “Are you sure?” he prodded. “There’s a lot of strangers hanging around this summer. It’s not safe to walk home alone.”

  “I get car sick,” I told him. “I wouldn’t want to vomit the Queen’s Galley’s famous fish chowder all over your nice upholstery. Think how hard it would be to get the smell out.”

  His smile faded. He started to say something, but a car right behind him blared its horn, making both of us jump.

  “Bye,” I called out, giving a wave for good measure. I pulled out my magazine, pretending to read. Frank’s SUV moved on. I kept my head down as the rest of the traffic went by.

  When I got home, Mom’s car was gone. A weird, empty feeling pushed against my ribs.

  “She’s doing research at the library,” Dad told me, not even looking up from the kitchen counter. He was wrapping fish in tinfoil, adding a sprig of rosemary on top of each fillet. “Supper will be ready in an hour,” he said.

  Chet was singing on the patio. His iPod shuffle was apparently playing Adele. Dad looked up. He had dark circles under his eyes. I stayed on the spot, one bare foot resting on the other. “What is it?” Dad asked.

  I became interested in picking a hangnail. “Not much. I might be going to the beach tomorrow.” I paused a few crucial seconds. “If that’s okay?”

  “Sure. Chet and I can make some plans. We need some man time.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Man time” to Dad would probably consist of reorganizing his National Geographic collection. Still, I was relieved to have a clear schedule for tomorrow.

  Dad wiped the counter and told me to join Chet and get some fresh air.

  THE NEXT DAY was Saturday, and totally awesome for two reasons: I didn’t have to take Chet to swimming, and I was meeting Chloe at the beach on our day off—okay, maybe that’s three things.

  I stared into my closet, then finally chose my two-piece with the Hawaiian print and white shorts. I loved that suit; it covered all the right bits. (And I didn’t have to worry about it getting see-through when it was wet, since I never go in the water.)

  I’d mastered the art of avoiding swimming. I loved the beach, not the ocean. I could wade up to my knees, but that was it. Any deeper and the ole stomach-heaving, heart-combustion dance began. Go back to shore! my cells would scream out.

  I shoved sunscreen, my iPod, and the August issue of Modern Teen into my Kipling bag.

  Mom slipped away from her computer long enough to interrogate me. I looked around her shoulder to peek inside her office. There were two apple cores, an empty glass, and an old coffee mug that had probably been filled three times already on her desk.

  Then the questions started. Who was Chloe? Which beach were we going to? When would I be home? Would the boy from the restaurant be there?

  That last one made me stumble a bit. Why did she care about How-hole?

  After I convinced her I wasn’t going to do drugs with the Hells Angels, I called out a “So long, smell you later” to Chet and hopped on my bike.

  I usually prefer taking Mom’s car, but today the blue sky and warm wind laced with the scent of wildflowers was promising a day of perfection. I loved biking the windy road to the waterfront. It was mostly downhill from my house, so I practically coasted the whole way there.

  I smiled as I lazily biked along a row of clapboard Cape Cod-style houses. Tiny pink roses climbed up trellises while window boxes overflowed with bright red geraniums. I took in a deep breath, feeling like the sun was shinning just for me.

  I paused when I came to the top of the hill above the Queen’s Galley. I almost laughed; it didn’t seem so steep today. Usually I tackled this beast of a slope with my brake-and-slow-release technique, but today was different.

  I wiggled on my seat, then stared down the hill and began to pedal. I dared myself to keep going faster, ignoring my hands as they twitched, fighting the urge to squeeze the brakes.

  The scenery blurred past me. I held my breath. The surge of adrenaline made me dizzy. I pressed my lips together, trapping an automatic scream. It was more terrifying when you could see how fast you were going. I should have worn a skirt.

  I panicked and hit the brakes too quickly. The back wheel swerved to the side. I wobbled uncontrollably. This time the scream did come out. I’m sure a few Stunders turned in my direction. I steered the bike off the road, using the sandy shoulder to help slow me down.

  I sucked in mouthfuls of air. Almost dying made me appreciate oxygen on a whole new level. I glanced at the hill. I’d been biking that slope for years. What the hell was I thinking?

  Reckless thrill-seeker.

  Stupid How-hole. I wish he’d get out of my head.

  I needed to focus. Breaking enough bones to be in a full-body cast was NOT on Francine’s spreadsheet.

  When I finally got to the beach, Chloe had already established her spot. She had a blanket spread out and a picnic basket. I walked up slowly, suddenly nervous. Maybe she was expecting a whole load of people. Maybe she’d forgotten about me altogether.

  She looked up from filing her nails and waved me over.

  Hooray!

  Two hunky guys ran past me, right up to her. A dark-haired one with a chiselled bod plopped down beside her. A tall blonde guy that looked like every girl’s dream stood by, shifting his feet in the sand.

  My stomach dropped. She hadn’t been waving to me after all. My heart weighed a hundred pounds. I took a step backward and tripped. My butt hit something soft, and I heard a loud crunching sound.

  “Hey!” A couple stared down at me angrily.

  I quickly scampered off their blanket, leaving a flattened bag of chips where I’d landed. “Oh, geez,” I said. “Sorry, Salt & Vinegar are my favourite too.”

  They didn’t say anything. The girl let out a huff and lay back down.

  Fingers curled around my elbow. “Kelsey?” Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Beautiful was beside me. He repeated my name again, then said, “Chloe is over here. We’re waiting for you.”

  We’re waiting for you.

  Not only had Chloe actually intended to hang out with me today, but apparently two hot guys were part of the deal.

  I hadn’t forgotten about Blaine, of course, but a little practice in how to form a sentence with a suave-a-licious guy would be great preparation for our next spontaneous chit-chat.

  Chloe had an umbrella set up. Actually, it came from the lifeguards’ shed. Chloe, I soon discovered, gets a lot of stuff for free. People just want to do nice things for her.

  Her blanket was a glorified girly spot. There was nail polish, snacks, drinks, coconut-scented sunscreen, fashion magazines, extra towels, even hairspray. The girl brought hairspray to the beach.

  The dark-haired guy was named Sam. Officially he was a few blankets over, but Chloe let him stay and chat for a bit. He promised to get us some fries from the canteen. He introduced Mr. Beautiful as Ben, his friend from university.

  “Kelsey works at Queen’s Galley too,” she told them. It was as if I were interesting or something.

  “The uniform is hot,” Sam teased me.

  “I’m working it like Bo Peep,” I said. They all laughed and I felt a surge of confidence. The nervous fluttering calmed a bit.

  Soon Ben had to leave. He was one of the lifeguards, and his break was over.

  “There must be an increase in the number of fake drownings when you work,” I told him. I was feeling more confident now and my cockiness flowed easily.

  He flashed me a smile, and then headed for his post. My eyes flicked back and forth between the waves and Ben’s retreating back. I squinted at his shoulders.

  Nope. Not worth it, I thought.


  “It’s so hot,” Chloe said, peeling off her beach cover-up. “I’m going in for a dip.”

  “I’m more of a beach girl myself,” I said. I waited for the questions, and even the prodding taunts, but Chloe stayed quiet and so did I. There’s one thing I learned over the years: the less I say about my aquaphobia, the more quickly people leave me alone.

  The day passed effortlessly. It was nice to just hang out and not worry about what time it was, or where I had to pick up Chet.

  Over a bag of chips and two cans of iced tea, Chloe gave me the lowdown on every cute guy who walked by. She pointed out the good kissers, told me which ones texted back immediately, and smiled when she mentioned the guy who always complimented her outfit, no matter what she was wearing. I basked in her popularity aura. I had become cool by proxy. If she’d suggested that we get tattoos, I would have agreed that very second. I would have agreed to anything.

  Sam eventually sauntered back. Chloe pulled back her sunglasses and gave his face a critical look. “You’re getting a burn,” she said, reaching for the sunscreen.

  I peeked over the cover of my magazine. Sam had a goofy look on his face that let me know he’d be all for getting a tattoo too. Delicately, Chloe dabbed a dot of sunscreen along his forehead. She rubbed it in, then let her finger slowly trail down his jaw. “Anywhere else need attention?” she asked.

  Holy hormone machine. A live tutorial of “Are You Naturally Seductive?” was playing before my very eyes. Chloe was definitely a natural.

  Sam didn’t do anything, he just kept staring at her. I think he may have stopped breathing. “Maybe here?” Chloe asked, touching his chin.

  Where was she going with this? I couldn’t look away.

  “Or here?” Chloe’s finger grazed his lower lip. Then she leaned in closer. “I know,” she said against his mouth, “right here.”

  I wasn’t Bo Peep. I was a Bo-frickin’-Peeping Tom. I kept hidden behind my magazine when the kissing started. It didn’t last long, though. Chloe was soon giggling and playfully pushing Sam away. I wondered if he was part of the good kisser group.

  Chloe looked over my shoulder and her face broke out into a smile. I turned around and saw Tanner walking toward us. He was proof that looks and popularity transcended age.

  I raised an arm, waving him over. Then I froze.

  Blaine Mulder, my future husband, was right beside him.

  My eyes hopscotched over Chloe’s blanket of beauty products, madly looking for something that could instantly pizzazz me up.

  A shadow fell over my stretched-out legs. “Hey, Kelsey.” Tanner loomed over me. “What’s up? I haven’t seen you since Franny left.”

  Having a best friend with a hot stud boyfriend should have thrown me into the path of other hot studs—notably Blaine. However, the laws of high school state only one outsider at a time can break free from the pack and mate with a “cool dude.” Blaine and I would have to solidify our romance in the summer, when the constraints of high school hierarchy weren’t so strictly followed. Plus, there was Regan—was, as in past tense, I kept reminding myself.

  “How’s the job?” Tanner asked me.

  I used all my willpower not to stare at Blaine. He was standing beside Tanner, smiling down at Chloe and me. He was also shirtless. “I look like Bo Peep,” I said. This time it didn’t get a laugh.

  Chloe must have sensed my painful death about to play out in front of her. “You guys should drop in,” she said, “for a Coke sometime.” Then she added with a smile, “On the house, of course.”

  Blaine gave me a perfectly adorable grin, and said, “Oh yeah? All I have to do is ask for you?”

  His tone was casual, but I could feel myself melting into the blanket. He took my breath away; everyone else disappeared. It was only me, Blaine, and his magnificent shoulders.

  “That’s all you’ve ever had to do,” I told him.

  He ran a hand through his hair, making the muscle on top of his shoulder bulge. The tease!

  “Cool,” he said. “By the way, my cousin’s having a party tonight.” He nodded to Chloe and Sam as well. “It’s the big place at the end of Corkum Road. You know it?”

  Chloe looked impressed. “Yeah!” she said. “We’ll be there.”

  Tanner caught my eye. “I’ll pick you up at eight, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I answered, reaching into the bag of chips while my heart did backflips.

  When I got home there was a note from Dad stuck to the fridge. He and Chet had gone into Halifax to see a movie. Mom was researching at the library and wouldn’t be home until later. There was leftover chicken in the fridge with directions to make a pasta salad.

  I rolled my eyes at his note. Pasta salad? Too much work. Instead, I made a peanut butter and Nutella sandwich, and took it upstairs with a glass of milk.

  Francine’s spreadsheet glowed back at me. I checked off “Spontaneous chit-chat #2.” I even skipped one of the squares and checked off “Party.” I felt a jolt of excitement.

  Release the endorphins!

  I scrolled down to the bottom. “Tell Blaine how you feel” was the second-last item. I read the final column and my heart did a tap dance. Since this morning I had moved two checks closer to “Have a simply amazing, neurotransmitter-firing, stomach-full-of-butterflies kiss.”

  FIFTEEN

  By the time I was ready, Mom still hadn’t come home. I hated to admit it, but it felt weird to have the house to myself. There was an eerie quality to the silence that had never bothered me before. Maybe I had gotten too much sun today and it was making me loopy.

  I stood in front of our living room window, watching for Tanner’s beat-up Toyota. My red Toms were dancing on the spot. The tiny rip at the right toe was hardly noticeable. I should have been in my flip-flops, but they were too grungy. I had tried to straighten my hair but ended up with a weird ridge across the back of my head, so I’d had to put it in a ponytail and hope for the best. But I wasn’t too panicked. Chloe had given me enough fashion tips to last all year.

  Like, “Only one designer item per outfit, don’t overload with brand names.” Luckily, this wasn’t a problem for me. My parents didn’t budget for designer clothes. I wore my capris and the Tommy Hilfiger halter top that Francine had brought back for me from Florida last March break. I tucked the straps of my bra inside my armpits and I was good to go.

  I left a note saying I was hanging out with Tanner and a friend from work. Since he met Francine’s high standards, my parents approved of Tanner. They felt he was like my older brother, and therefore safe.

  A loud muffler signalled my drive had arrived. I grabbed my Kipling bag and slammed the front door behind me.

  Sweet holy rollers!

  Blaine was sitting in the front passenger seat.

  Don’t pee your pants. Don’t pee your pants. Don’t pee your pants. I repeated my mantra as I walked in front of the car, knowing they were both sitting there watching me through the windshield.

  Don’t pee your pants. When I slipped into the back seat, my armpits were already sweating. The gorilla popped its thumb in its mouth all by itself this time.

  “Are You A Fearless Flirt?”

  Nope.

  “What’d you bring?” Blaine tilted his chin toward the back seat. I was able to appreciate his perfect profile from this angle.

  I flicked my hand at my bag. “Oh, um…like, stuff.” I didn’t think Blaine would be interested in what kind of lip gloss I’d taken for tonight.

  “No,” he said. “I mean for the party.”

  Francine had instructed me not to freak out during my spontaneous chit-chats with Blaine. She’d advised me to go with the flow and tell the truth. “Okay,” I laughed nervously, thinking of the mints and tiny hairbrush I’d also stuffed in my bag. “Just a girl’s survival kit.”

  Blaine’s face instantly fell. The colour ro
se high in his cheeks. He turned forward again, staring out the windshield.

  Holy frickin’ bacon turds, I thought. He thinks I mean tampons. I’m pretty sure Francine doesn’t have that on the spreadsheet.

  Tanner, immune to my nerdiness, turned up the radio. “I brought the usual six-pack,” he offered, his voice smooth and unaffected.

  He meant booze, idiot, not tampons.

  Tanner cut a corner onto the winding road that leads to the peninsula. I rarely took this route; it was a dead end with mostly big summer homes. I rolled down the window and the warm air blew in smelling of clover. I tried to relax.

  “So,” Tanner started, catching my eye in the rear-view mirror, “besides the Bo Peep uniform, anything good about being a busgirl? Are the tips decent?”

  “It’ll be good when I finally get paid,” I said, looking down at my Toms, where the tip of my toenail peeked through.

  “And you get to work with Chloe,” Tanner added. “She’s cool.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I had to be careful. It was important to stay loyal to Francine, but a secret part of my heart was overjoyed that the cool girl was adopting me for the summer. “She’ll be at the party tonight,” I said, as if I were her personal events coordinator.

  “The Queen’s Galley, right?” Blaine asked.

  Short-term-memory problems? Didn’t he just wave to me the other day in front of the restaurant? “Uh, yeah,” I said.

  Blaine laughed. I guess he remembered now too. Sillypants. It would be one of those stories we’d tell our kids. “And your father didn’t even remember waving to me that day…”

  He turned around to face me again, then said, “You must know—”

  “Dude,” Tanner interrupted. “Which drive is your cousin’s house, again?”

  “Oh, next left,” he said, pointing at the same time.

  Why do people do that?

  The woods were thick on either side of the car, and you’d never have known we were a hundred feet from the ocean. “Yup, this one here,” Blaine instructed.