Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  Tanner pulled in slowly to avoid hitting any of the cars parked along the side. “Man, it’s jumping already,” he said, his voice excited. I gave him a sideways glance. I wondered if Francine would be so excited to go solo to a party.

  I leaned forward into the space between the front seats and turned to Blaine. There was a faint whiff of Jake. No one wore Hollister like Blaine. I wanted to bury my face in his chest. A wave of heat washed over me. I’m sure my hair follicles were blushing. “So, yeah.” I started again. “The Queen’s Galley is interesting. Oh, my God, the manager is outrageous. And the kitchen guy—”

  “Whoa!” Blaine said to Tanner. “We’re here.”

  I was momentarily speechless. I knew there were big fancy summer homes around, but I’d never been this close to one before. I didn’t mix with Stunders often, and I’d never been considered cool enough to be invited to one of their parties before. This minor miracle called for two check marks on the spreadsheet.

  “Wow,” I breathed. The house we stopped in front of was a frickin’ mansion, with Roman columns and everything. My house could easily fit inside of it three times.

  Blaine grinned. “There’s a tennis court, too,” he said. “And a pool.”

  We got out of the car. Tanner walked on my other side, putting me between himself and Blaine. My heart swelled a little thinking of Francine. She must have left Tanner a spreadsheet too, with instructions to help me with Operation Tongue.

  God, I hoped she hadn’t told him the title.

  The house loomed in front of us like a Gothic mansion from the south. “Your cousin is super rich,” I breathed.

  “Lucky,” Tanner said. He had a six-pack in one hand. I knew these guys drank, but it was weird to see it happening. He offered me a can, but I waved him off. I’m not much of an expert, but I’ve seen enough episodes of Gossip Girl to know it’s better to be the girl holding the puker’s hair than to be the puker. Besides, if I was talking about tampons while stone-cold sober, what the hell would I say if I got drunk?

  Blaine was carrying a bottle of some kind of hard liquor. He went ahead of us to the front door. “He’s away with his much younger girlfriend,” he told us.

  “Your cousin?” I asked.

  “No, his dad,” Blaine said. “His girlfriend had to fly to Toronto to pick up her wedding dress.” He paused and gave Tanner and I serious look. “My cousin’s a bit pissed off about the whole thing. His mom took off for a spa retreat in Bali. So don’t bring it up, okay?”

  Tanner took a swig of beer. “Ouch,” he said. “When my parents split, my dad just moved in with my grandma two houses down. He still comes over for supper sometimes.”

  Blaine grinned. “And stays for dessert?” he teased.

  “Shut the hell up,” Tanner sulked.

  “Whatever.” Blaine shrugged. “Anyway, my uncle’s still a good guy. Plus, he left us a kickass house to party in.” He opened the front door. Music blared in our faces. He stepped back and waved me in. “What do you say, Kelsey?” he asked. “Are you ready to party?”

  SIXTEEN

  Bodies crowded the foyer, and the spiral staircase was dotted with couples either making out or laughing. Tanner immediately got his back slapped and hugged. “Oh my God, man. What’s going on?”

  I stood beside him, shaking like a church mouse. My fingers twirled around the fuzzy yellow gorilla. A cluster of girls strutted by with their perfectly straight hair and fresh lip gloss. I swear they left a trail of sparkly dust in their path.

  One girl was wearing a crocheted sundress over a bikini. She squeezed Tanner’s arm as she breezed by. “Hey,” she said. There was a hummingbird tattoo on her shoulder. Tanner’s eyes glazed over a bit.

  He turned to me and said, “Come on.”

  We followed Blaine down a spacious hallway and ended up in the kitchen. The massive granite counter was covered in liquor bottles, plastic cups, and piles of beer caps. There was a sink full of ice, but no one was chilling their beer.

  Tanner leaned against the counter and fell into an easy conversation with another jock. I smiled as he talked about scraping barnacles off boats. Then I smiled as Tanner talked about how the basketball team would have its best shot at the provincial title this year.

  Everyone had a drink…everyone but me. My hands felt stupid by my sides. I craned my neck to find Blaine, but he’d been swallowed up by the crowd and spat out into another room. I was so nervous I was practically molesting my poor yellow gorilla. My eyes wandered to the plastic cups, several already filled—I could at least hold a drink.

  My smile was stuck to my teeth. I needed a better plan than being Tanner’s shadow all night. I grabbed one of the plastic cups and squeezed through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Blaine’s perfect shoulders.

  In the living room, a huge stereo pounded out music. The floor vibrated with heavy bass. Off to the side, a set of double doors led out to the patio. I was sweating like crazy. I took a sip of my drink. The second it was in my mouth, I knew I had made a mistake. It tasted like paint thinner.

  “Kelsey!” Chloe called from the patio. She was surrounded by her usual supporting cast. About five male heads turned my way. I swallowed, feeling a burn all the way down my throat.

  I stepped around people, fighting the urge to cough or spew all over the carpet. I wondered how much my Nutella and peanut butter sandwich had digested.

  Chloe’s smile melted into concern. “Are you okay?” She was wiping her hands on a towel. Sam and Ben were sitting on the deck railing.

  I shrugged and tried to give her a smile; the real answer would take too long. She held up a bottle of gel. “I’m giving makeovers,” she told me.

  “Oh.” I self-consciously smoothed a hand over my ponytail.

  “Just Luke so far,” she laughed. “I thought he needed an updo for the party.” Her eyes shifted slightly behind me. I turned around. How-hole’s hair had been gelled into a fauxhawk, each spike ending in a perfect neon-blue point.

  “What do you think, Kels?” he asked. I noticed the people around us stopped and listened. “Is this a safe look?” he nettled. “Or do I look like every parent’s nightmare?” A few warbled remarks peppered the air from people around us, but he kept those blue eyes trained on me, waiting for my witty comeback. A warmth started to grow in my stomach.

  I wet my lips, then tilted my head to the side. “I think you’re afraid to look normal.”

  He waited a three-second beat, then slowly a grin spread across his face. “Brilliant,” he said. “You must have a lot of experience analyzing people.” It sounded like a compliment, but I could hear the snarky undertone. A bit cheeky coming from someone working under court order. He didn’t look away, but neither did I.

  How-hole didn’t frighten me because I knew exactly what he was: a reckless thrill-seeker. He may have been teasing me, but he was right—I was good at analyzing people. I didn’t spend all that time studying personality quizzes for nothing.

  Chloe looked in my cup and wrinkled her nose. “What are you drinking?”

  “Oh, this?” I stammered. I was afraid I’d have to take a sip in front of them and risk gagging. “Um…this isn’t mine. I’m holding it for a girl. Yeah, the girl with the bird tattoo, she just handed it to me. So…yeah.”

  “A girl?” Chloe said. “With a bird tattoo?”

  “A hummingbird tattoo?” How-hole looked alarmed. “Whatever Brooke’s drinking is too strong for you.”

  I snorted at him, but he looked totally serious.

  He took the cup from me and dumped it onto a plant in the corner. “I’m on safety patrol tonight,” he told me, putting his hand over his heart. “A huge part of my job is prevention.”

  Was he serious?

  “Cannonball!” a guy shouted from below. Seconds later we heard the splash.

  How-hole let out a tired sigh. “Duty calls.” Then
he turned on his heel and disappeared back into the house.

  I frowned at his retreating back. I hadn’t expected to see him. How-hole must be friends with these other Stunders, or maybe Chloe invited him here tonight after we ran into Blaine and Tanner at the beach. It’s weird, I’d never thought about it before, but if How-hole was a rich summer kid, then why was he working as a dishwasher? I thought all Stunders were snobs.

  Nothing about How-hole added up.

  “Here.” Chloe took a bottle from a huge ice bucket, then untwisted the cap and handed it to me. “It’s a cooler,” she told me. Then she added for good measure, “Never take a drink from a stranger, Kelsey. And never leave your drink alone.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I mumbled. I was a newbie and it was obvious to everyone. I took a sip. It tasted just like lemonade. It couldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t assaulting my taste buds. I took a few more sips and found a spot on the railing. From this vantage point I could see the whole grounds.

  Wowzers!

  There was a tennis court, a pool, and a winding path through birch trees to a private wharf. Sailboats were silhouetted against the sunset.

  “Cannonball!” A huge splash soaked a pair of girls lounging on the deck chairs. They squealed and covered their hair, then jumped up and hurried just out of reach.

  I took another sip of my cooler and scanned the pool, but Blaine wasn’t there. How-hole, I noticed, had sauntered up to the girls.

  “Duty calls, my ass,” I said into the bottle. That warm feeling in my stomach was spreading. I tilted back and finished my drink.

  I plopped down my empty and picked up another. I double-checked the label to make sure I was still drinking the right thing. I scraped my hand twisting off the cap, but I didn’t even feel it. In fact, everything felt a little disjointed. Not so much numb, just carefree.

  I liked feeling carefree. Who cared about How-hole and his freaky super-secret life? Not this gal, that’s for sure.

  I walked through various rooms while taking sips of my cooler, leaving the noisy crowd behind. I stopped in front of a pair of French doors. I pressed my face up to the glass. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a big, puffy, leather couch.

  I slipped inside and closed the doors behind me. It was much quieter in here. I tossed my Kipling bag on the floor. I realized the house was so huge that I might never find my way back to the party. “I should have left a trail of bread crumbs,” I said, making myself laugh. I was so frickin’ hilarious. Everything was suddenly hilarious.

  I pulled out my magazine. “What Kind of Guy Do You Like?” I read. I laughed again. I should laugh more often, it felt so good.

  I took a long swig from my bottle and circled C. Yeah, definitely C. I finished the quiz and my drink in record time. At least, it felt like record time. Maybe I had been in here for hours.

  I tallied up my score, but I didn’t bother reading my result. I knew what kind of guy I liked. I started to scribble Mrs. Kelsey Mulder all around the page. My pen soon faded. I shook it and did that thing when you suck the tip, but it was bone dry—just like my bottle. I held it to my lips and blew out a tune. On a small writing desk in the corner I saw a cup full of pens. I let the bottle fall to the floor.

  There was a picture frame on the desk. I stumbled closer. A man and a young boy were on the back of a sailboat with a perfect blue sky full of fluffy clouds behind them. The boy was squinting into the camera. I stared closely at the man.

  This must be Blaine’s uncle. This was the man who had divorced his wife and was now a sugar daddy to some dumbass beauty queen who had to travel to Toronto to get her wedding dress. I blinked a few times, then my eyes grew wide. This had obviously been taken years ago, but that handsome George Clooney face was still the same.

  The frame almost slipped from my hands. The owner of the Queen’s Galley was Blaine’s uncle! Maybe that’s why Mr. Deveau was being so fancypants about the upcoming wedding—it was for Edward and his much younger bride!

  I thought about what Blaine had said about his cousin being angry with his dad, and how the mom was having some kind of mental breakdown in a tropical resort. How could someone do that to their family?

  My dad would never betray us like that. Then again, socks and sandals kind of scream, “I’m off the market.”

  I sneered at the picture. “I will give you salt on purpose,” I breathed against the frame. It was a weird Scooby-Doo moment—I finally had cracked the case. I had to tell Chloe!

  I bumped my way down the hall and around the corner, trying to follow the music. I was totally lost. “Holy bacon farts,” I called out. “This place is ridiculously huge.” I stumbled and put my hand against the wall, knocking a few pictures to the floor. Oops.

  I climbed a set of stairs to another landing, sucking in air. I had no idea I was this out of shape. A blurry vision of blue spikes came closer to me. “Hey!” I called out. My tongue felt thick.

  I wiped a hand over my face. Chloe was suddenly in front of me. “Oh shit, Kelsey,” she laughed a bit. “Are you drunk?”

  “Nooooo,” my head made some kind of movement.

  She put a hand around my waist and said, “Let’s get you some water.”

  I laughed and squirmed in her arms, “Don’t,” I giggled. “I’m ticklish.”

  “Uh-huh,” she said, moving me into the kitchen.

  I stopped in my tracks. “NO!” I grabbed her cheeks and put my face close to hers. “You’re not going to believe this!” I sprayed her with my spit. “Edward is Blaine’s uncle,” I whispered loud enough for everyone to stop talking around us. “And he’s marrying this homewrecking dumbass…at the Queen’s Galley!” I squealed the last bit.

  Chloe’s eyes danced around the room. “Let’s get you home,” she said quickly. “Hey, Tanner,” she called out.

  Brooke, the girl with the hummingbird tattoo, was hanging off Tanner’s arm, whispering in his ear.

  My mouth fell open at the sight of another girl with Tanner. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. How could he do this to Francine?

  Tanner stepped toward me. Brooke’s hand slid off his shoulder. “Where were you?” he asked me.

  I glared back at him. Anger was quickly replacing my shock. “Not sticking my tongue in your ear,” I said. “That’s for sure!” Except my words came out slurred. They only made sense in my head.

  He looked confused. He nodded to Chloe over my shoulder, “I’ll take her home.” He touched my arm but I pulled away.

  “No,” I pouted, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “I’m not going anywhere until I have another spontaneous kitty cat,” I hiccupped. “I mean chit-chat.”

  Brooke started to giggle.

  I singled her out. “You don’t—hiccup—get it. You’re too pretty to understand.” I sniffed and wobbled on the spot, the kitchen floor had decided to tilt for some reason. “Do you have any idea how hards—hiccup—for a girl like me to get a—hiccup—guys to notice her? I hafta to use strategy and carefully—hiccup—laid out tactics. The Heptagon—hiccup—Pentagon did less during wartime…I’m exhausted!” My hand jutted out to grab the counter for balance.

  Brooke backed up, looking perplexed.

  I suddenly felt tired. I wish I’d stayed in the study with the cozy leather couch. The kitchen was totally quiet. I still had everyone’s attention.

  I took a breath, concentrating on making my mouth move the right way. In a rush of unexplained confidence, I had an unconquerable desire to speak up for every wife and girlfriend who had ever been cheated on. “What’s wrong with this world?” I asked them. “Everyone makes out like frickin’ monkeys—no one beli—hiccup—lieves in love. Not the guy who owns this house. Not girls—hiccup—with perfect makeup and hair.” I looked at Tanner. My voice dropped to a sloppy whisper, “Not even your parents.” My lower lip started to quiver, and I finally broke into tears.
“So what’s the point of a stu-hiccup—pid spreadsheet?”

  How-hole stood in the doorway, the look of pity on his face was the perfect finale for my embarrassing monologue. You know it’s bad when the crazy guy feels sorry for you. My stomach flipped painfully. Tanner’s hand was on my arm again. I didn’t protest this time. Even I could sense it was time to close the curtains on this disaster. He led me out of the kitchen. I blinked hard, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  “Do you need any help?” How-hole’s voice was behind us.

  “No thanks, dude,” Tanner answered. “Um…sorry about this.” I knew he was talking about me. My stomach twisted again. I cupped my hand over my mouth and tried to speed up my steps, but I kept tripping on my feet. Tanner was practically carrying me by the time we made it to the foyer.

  “You leaving already?” Blaine stood in front of us. He was holding a can of beer. He took a long swig and the sound was enough to trigger a chain reaction.

  My guts heaved. What seemed like five hundred litres of Nutella and peanut butter lava erupted from my mouth and cascaded onto Blaine’s feet.

  SEVENTEEN

  The neon light from the Shake Shack glowed off the hood of Tanner’s car. He turned away from the order window with two paper bags. The driver’s door creaked open. “Here.” He passed me a bag, the top still rolled up tightly. The delicious smell of grease filled the car.

  “Thanks,” I said thickly. My stomach had finally settled. Once I’d upchucked all over Blaine, everything felt normal again.

  Well, not everything. Tanner had only said a handful of words since we left the party. We’d been driving around Mariner’s Cove, him silently fuming, me silently dying inside. Shame didn’t even begin to describe what I felt.

  Tanner had already finished his burger by the time I’d had a few fries. The salt made me feel a little bit more alive, less like the corpse Tanner had dragged out of Blaine’s uncle’s house. He crumpled up his bag and took a long sip of his shake.

  He smacked his lips. “You know,” he said, staring hard at the windshield. “I don’t think anyone has ever insulted me and my parents in the same breath.”