Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  “Her son is tutored by my husband at the library.” She beamed. “Kids find that kind of thing so exciting to talk about.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “And since you’ll be short-handed, perhaps Kelsey can work in the kitchen?” Then she added with a smile for Clyde, “Under your supervision, she’ll really reach her full potential.”

  Mr. Deveau forced a smile.

  Nice burn, Mom.

  Clyde placed the unlit cigarette between his lips. “I’m short a dishwasher,” he said. “I’ll need her for the wedding this afternoon.”

  “Perfect,” she said. Then she gave me a questioning look.

  “Oh, yeah,” I stammered. “Perfect.”

  My mom shook hands with them, thereby officially ending the business transaction. Before she left, she added one more tidbit. “Oh, yes, and Kelsey will need to leave early this afternoon,” she explained. “Her little brother is going for his swimming badge and he insists that she be there to cheer him on.”

  “This afternoon?” I frowned back at her. “But Chet’s lesson is in an hour.” For a second I thought I ruined some part of her elaborate plan to overthrow the Queen’s Galley.

  But Mom didn’t even miss a beat. “I spoke to his swimming instructor,” she said. “Chet will be having a private lesson this afternoon.” Then Mom smiled. “She’ll give him something special even if he doesn’t get his badge.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She gave me a wink and we both smiled again.

  Mr. Deveau’s face was as red and greasy as the lobster special. Clyde merely raised a shoulder. “I’ll make sure she gets out on time,” he grinned, “mademoiselle.”

  Then, I swear to God, Mom sashayed back out to the dining room. Mr. Deveau made to leave, but then turned and walked out the back kitchen door, as though he were afraid to run in to Mom again.

  I thought about my discarded magazine lying in the ditch at the side of the road. There was no quiz on the planet that could have accomplished what Mom had just done for me. She might not know what an ombre hair treatment is or what the top five hottest fashion trends for the summer are, but she’d came through for me in a major way when it counted the most. I was in awe of her ability to stand up and fight for me.

  I discovered more in that five minutes listening to Mom’s slick logic as she debated with Mr. Deveau than I’d learned all those years doing stupid quizzes. Growing up had absolutely nothing to do with makeup and clothes. It was about taking care of the people you love.

  Clyde and I stood by the window, watching my mom back out of the parking lot. “I like your mother,” he said, the unlit cigarette bobbing up and down in his mouth. “She’s got fire in her heart.”

  “Nah,” I said, blushing with pride, “she’s got me and Chet in her heart.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  The reception was in full swing. I was whirling around the kitchen in my T-shirt and shorts, sweating like a pig. But I didn’t care. I was hidden in the kitchen, and Clyde was turning out to be a pretty cool guy to hang out with. He even made me the most amazing cheese omelet I had ever tasted.

  Chloe flitted in and out, giving us gossip about the guests. Julia told me I was doing a great job and that maybe the kitchen suited me better, since I was already a pro at dumping food. Ronnie was waltzing around as if the heat and constant smiling at strangers weren’t exhausting.

  I managed to sneak a quick look through the glass panel. Luke was in his tux, leaning against the wall with a few other guys I guessed were his friends from the city. He looked uncomfortable. No, wait: he looked amazing, but I could tell he was hurting.

  I wanted more than anything to whisk him away from this ridiculous wedding. I’d wrap my arms around him and tell him everything was going to be okay. I thought about how my mom had come through for me, and how she’d been trying to protect me by keeping dad’s job a secret. I didn’t think Luke had anyone looking out for him.

  This time I want to rescue the hero for a change.

  My palm pressed against the kitchen door. I wished I could march into the dining room and tell his dad off for being such a selfish turd head. Couldn’t he see how miserable he’d made his family?

  My chest tightened at the thought of Luke having to give a speech. I don’t even like giving oral reports in front of classmates. But Luke had to give a toast in front of all these stuck-up adults to his cheating dad. I’d be so angry. What the hell was he going to say?

  I let myself have one more look. Luke was shuffling around, hands in his pockets, head tilted downward. “Everything’s going to be okay,” I whispered. If only I’d had more courage last night, I could have said it to his face.

  Since my talk with Mom, my life didn’t seem so pathetic or disastrous. But I’d wasted my chance with Luke, I was sure of that. When Mr. Deveau called Mr. Mulder that morning, he’d probably told Luke all about my part in the Queen’s Galley losing its license.

  He must think I’m the biggest schmuck on the planet. I purposely made out with his cousin in front of him, then hardly offered any kind of empathy when he told me about his car accident.

  I thought about his tattoo.

  Except in this case, I’m the one to blame.

  Chloe came back to load up another tray. I helped Clyde remove a fresh batch of broiled scallops and bacon from the oven. “Awesome,” she smiled. “I love being the most popular.”

  I twisted a tea towel in my hand. The day, it seemed, was made for confessions. When I told her about her flip-flops lying at the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, she gasped. “I’ll pay you back,” I sputtered. “I promise.”

  She looked shocked. “Who cares about flip-flops? You fell off a sailboat…like, into the ocean.”

  “Luke saved me,” I said, looking down, feeling the blush grow hot.

  Chloe made a sound between a giggle and a knowing sigh. “Listen,” she said. “Don’t worry about the flip-flops, they were knockoffs. And so were the sunglasses.”

  “But I still need to pay you,” I offered.

  She grabbed a fresh batch of napkins. “Chill,” she laughed. “You can pay me thirty bucks, okay?”

  I nodded, but I was still unconvinced she was telling me the truth.

  She picked up on my hesitance and put down the tray. “Listen, it’s all right. Friends swap clothes all the time.”

  Friend!!!

  I immediately brightened. “Is there anything of mine you want to borrow?”

  She gave my ridiculously plain T-shirt-and-shorts combo a quick up-and-down glance. “Um…not yet. Let’s see what your school wardrobe is like in September.” She picked up the tray and moved toward the dining room.

  I leaned over the counter. “You mean you’ll talk to me in the hallways and stuff?”

  “I always talk to my friends.” She stopped and laughed a bit. “You kind of remind me of Jesse when she was younger, but without all the jock stuff.” She looked me up and down. “Yup, you’re a little Jesse. I’m calling you L. J. from now on.”

  I pictured myself jumping over the counter to hug her. I had always wanted a nickname. And now I had one from the coolest girl in school.

  Julia burst in and slapped her empty tray on the counter. Clyde and I moved into action, sliding the mini crab cakes into place. I added a few sprigs of parsley for decoration. Julia and Clyde shared a look.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked them.

  “Nothing,” Julia said, clearly smirking. “Absolutely nothing.”

  When things slowed down enough, I was able to put a load of wine glasses through the washer. I wandered over to the window. Blaine was standing in the driveway, hanging out with a few other guys who’d been with Luke earlier.

  His hands were in his pockets. He looked very handsome…well, from behind. I suddenly realized I had been so in love with Blaine’s shoulders because that was the part of him I saw the most. I
hardly ever saw his face; he was always turned away from me.

  I thought of Francine’s spreadsheet. I may have failed at Operation Tongue, but I had learned a lot. Like how the best advice is from people who know me and care about me, and not from a magazine trying to sell me lip gloss. And that the right thing to do is usually the hardest. Francine would be proud of me.

  Blaine threw his head back and laughed. I folded my tea towel and left it on the counter, then made my way out the back kitchen door. At least I could check off one more box on the spreadsheet. The guys turned my way. I didn’t hesitate, but walked straight up to Blaine. I smoothed my hands over my dirty apron. “Hi, Blaine,” I said. I was surprised my voice sounded so level. I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed to look so grubby in front of him.

  He smiled but kept his hands in his pockets. “Hey,” he said. “All dried off?” he joked.

  I didn’t even bother asking the other guys to give us some privacy. I handled it just like Mom had, truthfully and simply. “Blaine,” I started, “I’ve been in love with you for the last year and a half.”

  His face fell. I ignored the snickers from his friends and continued. “Actually, I was in love with your shoulders—I sit behind you in math class,” I explained. “But here’s the thing, it turns out I only thought I was in love with you. I didn’t even know you. And I wanted this summer to be the chance for that to happen.”

  Blaine rubbed his chin, maybe trying to conjure up a memory of us in math class. Or maybe he was stalling until I got called back into the kitchen. “Well,” he started. “I’m not really into starting a new relationship right now. I mean, I just lost Regan, and…” he slouched as a way of ending his sentence.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to date you or start a relationship. I just had to tell you that.”

  “Okay,” he said, uncertain. His eyes darted around the driveway as if he was waiting for someone to jump out and yell, “gotcha.”

  I wondered if he was a bit insulted when nobody materialized. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy staring at your shoulders,” I explained. “I finally figured out I don’t want your shoulders.”

  “Uh-huh,” he nodded.

  I started to back up. “So, enjoy the rest of your summer.”

  He gave me a confused wave. One of the guys punched him in the shoulder. By the time I opened up the kitchen door, their conversation had moved on to sailing.

  I walked over and started unloading the dishwasher. Clyde asked me why I was smiling at the sink.

  “I’m a sucker for check marks,” I told him.

  Chloe and Julia rushed into the kitchen. “Quick!” they said. “The toasts are beginning.”

  I helped pour champagne into their glasses and load up their trays. They teetered out, fighting to balance the delicate glasses. I gave silent thanks NOT to be carrying those around. Ronnie waltzed in with a white orchid in her blonde braid. “I love weddings,” she beamed.

  Clyde and I shared a look and laughed.

  When the last tray had gone out, Clyde checked his watch. “Fifteen minutes until your brother’s swimming lesson, Kelsey,” he reminded me.

  I pretended to clean up the salt and pepper shakers in the pantry. I wedged my toe into the kitchen door, leaving it open a bit so I could hear better.

  My heart was smashing against my ribs; I was so scared for Luke.

  I peeked through the glass and he was standing at the microphone. He cleared his throat and the room went quiet.

  Everyone leaned forward, probably anxious for a delicious bit of gossip about the groom’s son.

  Luke began, the paper shaking slightly in his hands.

  “How do know you’re really in love?” he read.

  “A. You wander around with a goofy grin on your face.

  “B. You start saying things like, ‘Aren’t the clouds especially fluffy today?’

  “C. You’re consumed with singing every song that pops into your head.”

  As Luke read off the list, the smattering of nervous laughter turned into true appreciation. There were even a few claps. I’m sure Mr. Deveau was behind one of them.

  When Luke was finished, he finally raised his eyes from the page and looked around the room. “For my dad,” he announced, “it was all of the above.”

  A smile spread across my face. “That how-hole stole my stuff,” I whispered.

  Luke raised his glass, “A toast to my dad, the guy with the goofy look on his face.”

  There was a round of cheers and a standing ovation. I was so proud of him. Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. His face was blotchy, making his eyes bluer than ever, even from all the way across the room.

  “What’s the most important thing to you in the world…right now?”

  I wanted him to look at me. I stared at him, willing him to see me like he always does. The way no one has ever seen me before.

  Look at me, Luke! Look at me!

  What had he been thinking when he wrote that speech? Had he found my magazine in the ditch on the way home? He’d spilled his story to me and all I’d said was, “Thanks, we’re even.” He must have thought I was unbearably selfish.

  He started to turn my way. My heart pounded out a staccato beat. What would his expression be when he saw me? Would it be full of disappointment or hate? Or worse, aloof and uncaring, just like Blaine?

  At the last second I turned away and pressed my back up against the wall. If he’d looked for my face and only saw an empty glass pane, I would never know.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Clyde tapped me on the shoulder, then nodded to the clock on the wall.

  “Oh, bacon turds!” I untied my apron and flung it on the counter, then raced out the back kitchen door. I ran through the intersection, dodging a few people as I pushed my way to the pool.

  I scanned the water. There was Chet, splashing and laughing. Only five minutes were left in his private lesson. I made my way to Mom and Dad, sitting on the bench, towels and backpacks strewn around their feet. Dad turned and said something to Mom. She smiled and gave him a kiss. Normally I’d be gagging, but the sight only warmed my heart today. I flopped down beside them.

  “How’s everything going?” Mom asked, keeping the finer details out of the question.

  “Good,” I answered, out of breath. She leaned in and inspected me. “Yeah,” I insisted. “It’s okay. Actually, it’s much better. Um…thanks, Mom.”

  She patted my knee.

  “So,” I squinted at the pool. “Do you think he’s getting a badge?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure.” Mom sounded worried. “He seems like he’s done so much better this week. But when I spoke to his instructor she thought he’d need another two full weeks.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” Dad adjusted the video camera. “Chet will be happy with a sticker, too.”

  I kept quiet, not wanting to disrupt Dad’s wishful thinking. Chet knew the difference between a sticker and a badge. I wish I had spent more time with him in the pool. Not that I could have helped with his swimming. I thought of Luke; if I hadn’t been so busy trying to make him jealous or check off my stupid spreadsheet, I could have asked him to give Chet private lessons instead of teaching me.

  Whoa! Lose that dream, loser.

  I wiped that thought bubble away.

  Mom squealed and stood up. Chet’s private lesson was over. The instructor gave him a hug and passed him his report card. Chet bounded over to us, his little paper booklet for swimming already soggy. Dad gave him a high-five. I blinked a few times, certain I could see a bright sticker stapled to his sheet.

  “Kowsey!” he hollered. “Just like Fwog and Owed!”

  “Frog and who?” I teased, crouching down, getting ready for my “That sticker is awesome, let’s get a free triple-scoop ice cream to celebrate!” speech.

  “Owed alwa
ys wands to give up, but Fwog makes him keep twying. So I keep twying!” His chubby hands held open his booklet.

  That little stinker. His beautiful badge made me cry—and Dad got it on video.

  Chet pulled away from me and pointed to the top of the bleachers. “How-hole!” he cried out.

  I slowly turned. Luke was coming down the stairs toward us. With his sunglasses and his tux, he looked like James Bond. Several heads swivelled in our direction.

  My brain was firing out orders: Run. Stay. Smile. Cry. Hug. Pee your pants.

  Fortunately I stayed, but I chickened out and smiled at the ground.

  Luke crouched down and gave Chet a high-five. Chet babbled for a while. I snuck a glance at my mom; clearly these two had been putting in time together.

  Mom pulled me off to the side. “He’ll be a big brother in a few months,” she said. “Chet is more than willing to help him practice.”

  I frowned at my mom. What the heck else had she been cooking up behind my back?

  “Everything all set for this afternoon, I hope,” Mom smiled at Luke. “We’ll expect you two at eight o’clock tonight. We like to eat later in the evening.”

  You two? As in Chet and Luke? Is that why he’s here, to take my brother for ice cream?

  My mouth fell open. “He’s taking Chet?” I asked her. I felt a bit put out. If anyone was going to celebrate with Chet, it should be me, his favourite person on the whole planet.

  Mom gave me a look that mimicked Francine when she’s trying to explain a simple math rule. “No, Kelsey,” she said, “I arranged for Luke to give you some private swimming lessons.”

  And there went the ground, plus my stomach.

  “Huh?” I’d been falling back on that phrase a lot lately.

  Mom picked up my backpack and handed it over. “Your bathing suit and towel, plus capris and a top that still had the tag on it.”

  I couldn’t move.

  Luke reached out, taking the backpack and shouldering it over his tux. He pulled his glasses down a bit, just to give me a quick peek at those blue pools. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said, putting a set of keys in my hand, “you’re going to have to drive.”