Chasing Butterflies (3 page)

She shakes her head quickly and frowns at me.

“Tell me something you do that’s crazy, Yara,” I push.

“I, erm—” She looks to the ground as if she’s embarrassed. “I don’t talk like normal people.”

“That’s just talking differently.”

“I don’t know the things I should do,” she admits. “I don’t know how to act my age.”

“That’s just being naïve.”

“I like different things.”

“Well, life would be pretty boring if everyone liked the same thing.”

“I like
weird
things,” she explains.

“Weird isn’t wrong.”

She opens her mouth as her eyes snap back up to mine. “Why are you asking me all this, Gabriel? Why have you decided to talk to me after being my neighbour for years? Why now?”

Because you can be my punishment. Because I want to hurt in a different way.
“I don’t really know,” I confess. “I’m sorry I ignored you for so many years.”

She takes a deep breath but keeps her gaze level with mine. “Did you believe the stories they were saying about me?”

I nod. “I did.”

“And you don’t now?”

“I’m not sure,” I say, giving her a smile. “I did just catch you hanging upside down from a tree.”

She giggles. “Yeah,” she says slowly, “that probably looked pretty strange.”

I step forward and boldly tap my finger to her temple. “Do you feel it in here?”

I hear her breath catch in her throat as her eyes study my face. I see them roam over my messy hair before quickly moving down to my ears and across my cheeks and nose until she stares at my lips. Then it’s my turn to stop breathing.

“Do I feel what in where?” she asks, raising her eyebrows at me.

My eyes drift over her perfect face and then over her slender shoulders and down her toned arms. “Do you
feel
crazy? Do you think you really are?” I whisper.

“No, I really don’t.”

Yara

I know Gabriel isn’t qualified to tell me how my brain is functioning, but I don’t care. An actual person is talking to me. We’re having a conversation, and while it’s not a normal conversation, it’s better than anything I’ve ever had before. He makes me think about things. And best of all, he makes me smile.

Gabriel holds out his arm for me to link after our conversation dies out. “Come on. I’ll walk you back home. A girl like you shouldn’t be out at this time of night on her own.”

“A girl like me?” I repeat.

He gives me a breathtakingly gorgeous smile and nods confidently. “Yes. A girl like you,” he says, and it makes me think he isn’t saying it because he thinks I’m nuts.

“I’ll be perfectly fine on my own, but thank you.” I grin at him and link my arm through his. “I go for a walk almost every night though, so I’ll be fine. Speaking of which, I’ve seen you walking around at night too, Gabriel. Apparently, I’m not the only one that chooses to escape when the moon is high.”

He opens his mouth but then closes it without saying anything. I wonder if I’ve offended him. We walk for a minute without speaking and then I suddenly stop.

“You shouldn’t walk with me,” I tell him. “I know it’s the middle of the night but someone might see you.”

He frowns, making his tanned face crease around his nut-brown eyes. “So?”

“So, you don’t want to be seen with me. People will laugh. They’ll talk.”

He shrugs and continues walking, pulling me along with him. “I don’t care,” he says. “I don’t care what they think, and I certainly don’t care about what they say.”

“Then you’re crazier than I am,” I joke.

His eyes move to mine and as he stares at me, I swear I can feel my heart beating all over my body.

“What was that book you were reading?” he asks.

“Wuthering Heights. Do you know it?”

He nods. “Yeah, I think so. It was that Heathcliff dude who loved his sister, right?”

“It’s much more than that,” I tell him, trying not to laugh at him. “And she wasn’t his
real
sister.”

“Well, it was definitely depressing. I don’t know why anyone would want to read a book that’s so sad.”

“It’s a classic love story.” I shrug. “What’s not to love?”

He raises his eyebrows at me. “You like love stories, huh?”

I smile. “Why do you sound so surprised? I’m a girl. Don’t all girls like love stories?”

He looks baffled for a few seconds, and then his face morphs into an easy grin. “I guess they do.”

It only takes a couple of minutes to get to my house, and it makes me wish I lived ten miles away. “This is home,” I say, “but I guess you already knew that.”

He sighs and unlinks our arms. “Will you be okay?”

You spoke to me. You’ve given me hope for the first time in my life. I’m much more than okay
. “Of course,” I tell him. “I always am.”

Yara

It’s been seven whole days since Gabriel talked to me in the middle of the night. I feel like I miss him, even though we only spoke for a little while. I know that’s complete madness, so I guess I just miss having someone to talk to.

Granny doesn’t really talk at all these days, and no one else in the village will even look my way. Except Jasmine, but she only looks at me when she’s taunting me. Thinking about Jasmine makes my blood boil. I clench my fists and slam the back door shut as I step out into another scorching hot day.

“Yara,” calls Granny.

I stop and turn around. She sticks her head out of the back door and throws a bottle of water at me. I catch it and then frown at her, wondering why she’s thrown it.

“It’s for you to drink on your way to school,” she tells me. “It’s going to be hotter than Hades today.”

I can feel my mouth hanging open in shock as I watch her retreat back into the kitchen. Granny hasn’t cared what I’m drinking or eating since I was six years old.
Maybe she did bump her head the other day after all…

“What’s Hades?” I ask, tucking the bottle of water into the pocket of my dress.

She frowns and shakes her head at me. “Hell, you fool.”

That’s more like it.

Granny retreats back into the kitchen and slams the door shut. I sigh and swish the hem of my pale yellow dress and walk past my area of the garden to check on my babies. They’re almost ready and I feel a slither of excitement filter through me. I love when the butterflies burst into the world, full of energy and hope. It makes me wish I were one even more.

Just then I spot the only other neighbour we have besides Gabriel’s family. Mr Phillips is out walking his dog, just like he always does. And just like always, he spots me and then immediately turns around, walking in the opposite direction.

I speed up to catch him. “Good morning, Mr Phillips,” I say.

“Morning,” he mumbles, looking away from me as I walk beside him.

“What are you doing today?” I don’t know why I bother, but for some reason I keep hoping one day he’ll answer me.

I’ve seen Mr Phillips nearly every day since he moved into the house next to ours five years ago. He spoke to me on that first day, and then he must have heard the rumours that have circulated around for God-knows-how-many years, because the next time I spoke to him, he did exactly what he’s doing now. He ignored me. Refused to look at me. Acted as if he was repulsed by me.

He says something that I don’t quite catch and then turns around and starts to walk back in the other direction.

“See you later then,” I call out to him.

He raises his arm in reply.

I huff and fold my arms across my chest as I continue walking. I know Lulu tells stories and I’ve heard some of the rumours that are flying around about me but they don’t seem mean enough to prevent people—adults too—from looking at me. Whatever else it is that she tells them, it’s got the whole village afraid of me, and it’s been like that ever since I was a little girl. Sometimes I wonder if Lulu knows our secret, because that’s the only thing I can think of that would actually make people hate me. But then I remember that Granny said our secret would get us killed if it got out.

I sigh, hating that I can’t figure out what Lulu’s problem is. My fingers brush over the leaves of the hedge I’m walking past and pluck a leaf off as I veer away from the little path and onto the main pavement.

“There she is!”

My head snaps to the right when I hear Jasmine’s shrill voice, and then I see her and three of her friends walking toward me. “Oh no,” I say as chills explode all over my body.

Jasmine scowls at me. “Well, if it isn’t the weird little bitch.”

I turn away from them and start to walk away faster.

“Where’s that cute little satchel of yours today, Yara?” Jasmine walks up to the side of me, causing bits of dirt to kick up my calves. My scalp feels like it has thousands of tiny ants crawling all over it when I realise how close she is to me.

“I left it at home.” I tuck a piece of my long hair behind my ear and look up at the cloudless, blue sky as dizziness crashes down on top of me. I screw my face up and fan myself with my hand.

“It’s hot today,” she says. “Are you sweating?”

I feel my shoulders stiffen as I shake my head. “No.”

“Yes, you are. We can smell you.” She grabs at my clammy hand, and before I have a chance to pull away from her, she lifts my arm high above my head. “Oh my God!” She gasps, letting go of my arm.

I pull my hand close to my body and feel hot tears prickling at my eyes. “Leave me alone, Jasmine.”

“She’s got hairy armpits,” she yells to the others as she waves her hand in front of her face dramatically. “And by the smell of it, she hasn’t used deodorant this morning either.”

My throat feels dry and constricted, but I manage to whisper, “I hate you.”

“What was that?” she asks, leaning closer to me while she pinches her nose.

“Nothing,” I mumble, turning away from her.

“Oh, I think I heard you, Yara.” I try to cross the road to get away from her, but she pulls on the hem of my dress and yanks me back. “Let’s go and see just how much you hate me.”

Gabriel

I’ve never been so physically exhausted in all my life. Even the extra work I did while I was away at college was nothing compared to how I feel now.

When I came back to Eleze a couple of months ago, I had no money left and no job. My best mate, Jonny, managed to get me a job with a big landscape gardening company, and I’ve been trawling across the county with the same group of guys ever since.

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes with a sigh.

“What’s up with you, Gabe?”

I open one eye and stare at George, noticing the way he’s started to use my newly acquired nickname. I’ve realised since starting this job that none of the guys on the team call anyone by their real name. “Nothing,” I mumble.

He rolls his eyes at me and then turns back around to look out of his window. I’m in the back of the works van with George, or Big-G, beside me. Matt’s driving and Bernie is in the passenger seat. Matt and Bernie have been arguing about which radio station we’re going to listen to, while George and I have done our best to ignore them.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing,” George says. He doesn’t turn to look at me, but I know he’s frowning. George is always frowning, and it always seems to be aimed at me.

“I’m just tired,” I tell him. “My arms are aching and my back is sore.”

“You carved some good shit today.”

I grin and playfully punch him in his shoulder. “I always do, don’t I?”

He nods and turns to grin at me. “True story.”

“What the fuck?” asks Bernie, sounding excited.

I almost bang heads with George as we both lean into the middle to try and look out the front window. “What is it?” I ask.

“I can see tits,” Matt replies. “And legs and long, blonde hair.”

“Where?” George shoves at my chest, pushing me out of the way, and sticks his head in the gap between the front seats. “Where is she?”

“Pervert,” I grunt as I slump back into my seat.

“There,” says Matt. He points at something—or someone, from the sound of it—but because George has blocked me, I can’t see who it is.

“What the fuck? That’s some sick shit. Who is it?” asks George.

I frown and then I hear Matt laughing. “It’s that weird girl. The one who killed her mother.”

I feel the blood go cold in my veins. “Yara?” I say, trying to pull George back so I can see.

“How do you know her name?” asks George.

I turn to him and shrug. “She lives behind me. I think I’ve heard my mum mention her a few times,” I lie, feeling it burn as it leaves my mouth.

They slow the van down, and I shove at George until I push myself through the gap. Then I see her. She’s standing on the pavement with her yellow dress around her ankles and thick brown tape wrapped around her bare waist.

“What the hell?” I say.

“They’ve stripped her and tied her to the fucking lamppost,” Matt says, laughing. “Pass me that,” he says, pointing toward his lunch box.

Bernie hands Matt the box and then turns to stare back out of the window. “What is she wearing?”

I hadn’t noticed the first time I looked at her, but she’s not wearing a proper bra. Her breasts are encased inside a grey-coloured vest that’s clearly been cut with a pair of scissors so it sits against her rib cage.

Matt flips the lid open, and I watch in shock as he starts to throw grapes and strawberries at Yara. “Here you go,” he yells at her with a laugh. “These should keep you going for an hour or two.”

Yara’s head was bowed, but she slowly lifts it now, her sad eyes scanning over our truck until they connect with mine. Fruit explodes and splatters across her red skin as Matt continues to chuck them at her through his window. I open my mouth to call out to her, but my words get stuck in my throat when she shakes her head at me. Tears start to streak down her face, wobbling at the bottom of her chin before plopping onto her chest.

I’ve been in complete shock until now, not really believing what I’m seeing, but when I watch the first tear slither down her cheek, I suddenly realise what’s going on and how fucking wrong it is. “Stop it,” I hiss. “Help her.”

“Why?” he asks, pulling a sandwich out of the lunchbox. “She’s probably hungry. And this is way too much fun to stop.”

My hand flies out, trying to stop him but I’m not quick enough. He flings the sandwich through the air and it lands with a slap against Yara’s thigh. I watch bits of cheese fall to the ground as she looks down at it.

“She’s probably thirsty too,” he says, laughing, as he unscrews the lid from his water bottle.

“Let me out,” I say. My fingers fumble for the door handle as he throws water at her. It splashes in her face and clings to bits of her hair that have fallen over her shoulders. “Unlock this fucking door!” I yell as I tug on the handle.

Matt and Bernie laugh, then the truck peels away and Yara disappears from view as we round the corner.

“What the fuck was that?” I growl.

“Ooh,” Matt says with a laugh, “have you got a little crush on crazy Yara?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re just being a knobhead for no good reason. How would you feel if that was your sister?”

Bernie turns around, his long, curly black hair flicking across his cheek. “She’s nobody’s sister, Gabriel. What’s your problem, man?”

I punch the headrest in front of me, making Matt’s head jerk forward. “Go back,” I tell him.

“No way,” he says quickly. “We’re already late for our next job, and Mrs Turner wants you to carve her Bambi and all his little fucking friends.”

It’s been two hours. I tried to get them to turn around, but they wouldn’t listen. I tried to get back in the truck and drive back as soon as we got there, but they hid the fucking keys. I’m so pissed off with them that I’m not sure I’ll be able to face them tomorrow—or ever again.

My Jeep screeches around the last corner and then my heart drops into my stomach. Yara is still there, and her skin is even redder than it was before.

I climb out and rush toward her, noticing wreaths and flowers have been laid at her feet. “Fuck,” I whisper as I pull my knife out of my back pocket. “It’s okay,” I say when I get to her. “I’ll cut you free now.”

I swipe my knife at the tape and tug it free from her body, wincing as it rips across her skin. Yara doesn’t look up or speak to me, but when she’s no longer tied to anything, she slumps forward and collapses into my arms.

“Yara?” I say. “Yara, are you okay?” I don’t even know why I’m asking, because there’s no way she’s okay. God knows what it’s done to her being treated like that by the whole village. I need to hear her say
something
though. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “I tried. I really tried.”

“Cut me too.”

I frown, wondering if I’ve heard her correctly. “What?”

“Cut,” she whispers. And then she blacks out.

“Shit,” I hiss. I grab her dress and pick her up, carrying her like a baby to my truck. I gently lower her so she’s lying across the back seat and cover her sunburnt skin with her dress. My temper flares as I close the door and then climb into the driver’s seat. I turn the key in the ignition and glance at her perfectly still, sleeping face.

How could someone do this to her? Why are people still treating her like they actually believe she’s cursed?