Chasing Butterflies Read online

  After fifteen more minutes, I give up. I shove the covers off, pulling on my sports shorts and plain navy hoodie as I walk over to my window. When I look down, I see Yara lying on her back in the middle of my lawn in nothing but a short, black nightie. I sigh and climb out of my window because I have a horrible feeling she isn’t going to go away, and I don’t want my mum waking up to find Yara on our lawn.

  Yara lifts her head when I approach her. “About time. I was wondering how long you could ignore me.”

  I’m momentarily stunned. It’s only been three days since I last saw her, but I’ve forgotten just how striking Yara is. I smile at her and shake my head. “It’s three in the morning, Yara. I could have been sound asleep for all you knew.”

  She leans up on her elbows and frowns at me. “But you weren’t,” she says matter-of-factly. “I checked.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “You checked?”

  “Yes.” She stands up and gazes up at me. “You were just lying there, blinking at nothing.”

  Feeling annoyed with her for snooping, I grab her elbow and guide her across the grass towards her garden.

  “I just needed to get out of the house,” she tells me. “And I don’t need you to lead me anywhere.” She pulls her arm out of my grasp and stops.

  I halt and look at her, noticing for the first time how dishevelled and panicked she looks. What’s happened to her tonight?

  “I’m leading you,” she says, walking off ahead of me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, following her away from our houses and towards the section of wood I used to call “the jungle.”

  “To a place where I like to go when I can’t sleep,” she tells me. “Figured you could do with it too, seeing as though you can’t sleep either.”

  I don’t like where she’s going with this, so I decide to change the subject. “Aren’t you cold?” I ask, noticing her toned, bare legs sticking out of her nightie.

  “Yes.”

  “Why haven’t you said anything?”

  She shrugs. “I’m not going back for a coat, so I don’t see the point in wasting energy complaining about it. It won’t make me any warmer, will it?”

  I roll my eyes at her back and decide I’m not going to talk to her anymore. She’s clearly in a strange mood and I’m not biting. Not this time.

  After about ten minutes of trying not to stare at her bum as it wiggles in front of me, I realise how stupid I’ve been. I’ve followed her without question, kept my mouth shut instead of interrogating her while I had the chance, and basically admitted—by not saying anything—that I have a reason why I can’t sleep.

  When we get to the creek, I can’t stand the silence for another minute. Yara and quiet just don’t go together.

  “So why do you like butterflies so much, Yara?” I ask. There’s an edge to Yara that I hadn’t noticed before tonight. Kind of like a barrier or a bubble around her, as if she’s trying to keep me away. It confuses me a little because I’d have thought she’d be desperate to have a friend, or at least someone to talk to.

  “My mother was overdue,” she finally begins as she leaps over the flowing water like a graceful ballerina. “When she went to the hospital, they induced her. Granny says the labour was hard. Forty-one hours in total. And when I came out, I was blue. The midwife slapped my bum, shook me a little and rubbed me with a hot towel, but I didn’t cry…and I didn’t breathe either.”

  Is she trying to tell me she has brain damage? Is this why she’s different—why the people of this village think she’s nuts?

  “Apparently, the midwife laid me down in a baby cot and turned around to tell my mother they were sorry that they’d lost me but there was nothing else they could do.”

  Yara walks off the path and starts to stride through the long grass, the insects chirping at us as I scramble to follow her. How is she able to walk in the pitch black without stumbling? And how does she manage to make it look like she’s floating instead of walking?

  “Go on,” I whisper encouragingly.

  “I was dead,” she says. “Gone. But then a butterfly fluttered into the room, landed on my forehead and somehow it breathed the life back into me.”

  “A butterfly?” I repeat. I guess that explains why she’s obsessed with them.

  “Yes. And after I breathed for the very first time, it flapped its wings and flew out of the window as if it hadn’t just saved my life.”

  “I see why you like them so much now,” I tell her.

  She bats away some low-lying branches and veers off on a different course. “It’s how my Mum decided on my name.” What happened to your mum? “Yara means small butterfly,” she whispers.

  I freeze, suddenly loving her weird name. It all makes perfect sense now.

  “So,” she says, “where’d you go tonight?”

  I pause mid-step but Yara continues, so I have to jog to keep up with her. “Excuse me?”

  “Tonight,” she repeats. “I saw you come back home in a taxi a few hours ago. Where had you been?”

  “Out,” I say, not wanting to tell her anything about where I was…or who I was with.

  “Out where?”

  “At the bar.”

  “With who?” she pushes.

  “Enough, Yara,” I snap.

  I expect her to flinch at the venom in my words and the tone of my voice, but she doesn’t. She just carries on walking like she’s been doing for the last forty minutes.

  “I’m sorry for snapping,” I finally say as we reach a clearing. I feel myself frowning as my eyes take in a small pool of water in the dip of land below us. I’ve lived in this stupid village all my life and I’ve been in these woods at least a thousand times, but I’ve never seen this before. Never.

  Before I can ask her how she found this place, Yara peels her nightie over her head. I’m expecting weird knickers and a homemade bra, but there’s nothing—she’s completely and utterly naked, her ash-white hair falling all the way down her back. I quickly glance in the opposite direction, not wanting to stare at her but wanting nothing more than to stare at her at the same time.

  “I come here about four times a week,” she tells me. I turn just enough to catch her outline in my peripheral vision and see her slender calf disappear into the midnight-coloured water. “The water is really warm,” she breathes.

  I pull my hoodie clean off my head and push my shorts down my legs, leaving on a pair of black boxers. I spin around just in time to see her bum drop under the surface of the water in the single streak of moonlight that splinters across the ripples she just made.

  God, she’s perfect. “What the hell am I doing?” I mutter.

  “You’re swimming,” she tells me.

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I grumble as I step into the water. The night air is much colder than it’s been for a long time, and I expect the water to be cool too but it’s warm. Like bath water warm.

  A groan slips out of my mouth without me realising it until it’s echoing off the trees that surround us.

  “You like it?” Yara swims up to me, her taught waist just a touch away.

  “Yes,” I breathe, noticing the way a droplet of water snakes down her cheek and into the corner of her mouth.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says, looking around. “Almost magical.”

  A bit like you.

  “I never knew this was here,” I tell her.

  I never knew you were so pretty or interesting.

  She smiles, revealing her perfect white teeth, and in that moment it feels as if my heart stops beating. The insects go quiet, the wind dies down and all I can hear is the water lapping against Yara’s skin. Yara’s naked skin. “I never knew you were here,” she whispers.

  “I’ve lived here all my life,” I tell her.

  “You’ve not lived like you’re living now,” she says. “Now you’ve let me see you. The real you.”

  Yara

  The warmth from the sun drenching my cool skin makes me yawn. I was cold aft
er we got out of the water last night, and Gabriel generously offered me his hoodie. When I didn’t take it, he pulled me into his side and wrapped his arm around me to keep me warm. If I had known that’s what he would have done, I would have complained that I was cold a long time before I actually did.

  The morning sun hovers just above the horizon and streaks across Gabriel’s face in a deep orange glow. My eyes trail up and down his body, watching his chest rise and fall with each deep breath he takes. For someone who struggles to sleep, he’s certainly a heavy sleeper. I’ve already been up and had a wee in the bushes around the corner. I’ve also washed myself in the warm lake and then sat back down to watch the sun rise properly. But instead of watching the sun, I watch him.

  I can’t stop staring at him. I’m pretty sure he’s going to wake up in a minute and catch me, but not even the embarrassment I’d undoubtedly feel can stop my eyes from wandering all over him. He’s mesmerising.

  I never thought a man could be beautiful, but he’s far too handsome to just be called…well, handsome. His light brown hair has strands of blonde flowing through it, making it look like the sun has bleached some of it. He has tanned forearms, but when I saw his biceps last night I noticed they were lighter in colour, making me think he must work outside in a t-shirt. He has the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen and long black lashes that make it look like his eyes are flashing at me when he blinks. When he smiles, he gets tiny dimples in his cheeks, and he has a strong jaw and plump-looking lips.

  In fact, Gabriel has the sort of lips that look like they were made to be kissed. Even when he’s asleep, they’re sort of pouting as if just waiting for my lips to lock against them.

  I look away, feeling like an idiot. I can’t kiss Gabriel. I want to. I really want to. But I know I can’t—not ever. Gabriel doesn’t seem like the sort of boy that would like to be kissed by someone like me. I bet he has a girlfriend anyway, one who’s smart and clever and funny and sexy. She’s probably everything I’m not—everything I wish I were.

  But those lips…I’ve dreamt about them. About them kissing me. About them moving around words as he tells me he loves me. About them smiling at me after I’ve said something deliberately funny. Those lips bring possibilities into my life that make me feel like I’m actually alive.

  And that’s what I really like about Gabriel. I feel things deep in my heart that I’ve never felt before. For the first time ever, I’ve felt excitement in the pit of my stomach, and it’s all because of him. Without even trying, he’s made me feel things that I could have only dreamed about feeling before now. He also makes me think about all the things we could have together if he did actually try.

  I sigh and lean over him, placing my hands on either side of his face. He stirs beneath me and mumbles something, but it’s not enough to make me stop. I dip my head until I’m literally a centimetre away from his face and then close my eyes as I gently press my lips to his.

  Chapter 7

  Gabriel

  My eyes snap open to find Yara’s face hovering right above me. The sun must be right behind her because it’s causing a halo of sunlight to surround her head. She looks like an angel

  I frown, wondering why she’s so close to me, but then I notice the way my lips tingle and how sensitive they feel. Did she kiss me? She wouldn’t…

  “What’re you doing, Yara?” I say hesitantly.

  She looks down at my mouth and then nibbles on her lower lip as she kneels. “Nothing,” she mumbles.

  Shit. She actually fucking kissed me.

  I glare at her and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, but it’s no good. My lips are still fizzing with the need to kiss her back. “What do you think you were doing?”

  “It was just a kiss,” she says, her voice trembling.

  I see tears in her eyes, but I can’t stop myself from being annoyed with her. “Well, you shouldn’t have. You’re too young.”

  “I’m not,” she fires back quickly.

  “You are,” I hiss. I hate how I want to lick my lips to see if I can taste her. “I shouldn’t even be here with you. I could get arrested.”

  “What for?” she asks, frowning at me. “For talking to me?”

  “For kissing you.”

  “You didn’t kiss me,” she says. “I kissed you.”

  “Yeah, when I was asleep. It’s weird.” I push my hand through my hair, the anger pumping through my body. How dare she put me in this position! “You’re too young,” I say again. “How old are you, Yara?”

  “I don’t think that should matter,” she mumbles, looking hurt.

  Shit. “Fifteen?”

  She shakes her head.

  Jesus. “Fourteen?”

  She leans forward so she’s matching my stance, but her head only comes up to my chest. “No. As a matter of fact, I’m sixteen. Today, actually. And kissing you when you were asleep was the only way I could do it, because I know you’d never kiss me when you’re awake. I just really wanted to kiss you,” she whispers. “I wanted to know what it felt like. I’m sorry,” she says, her voice shaking with emotion.

  This would have been the absolute perfect moment to show her exactly what a kiss should feel like. Instead, I wipe my mouth again and shake my head. “I’ll walk you back home now.”

  “Don’t bother,” she says, standing up. “I’m perfectly capable of walking back on my own.” She turns away but not quick enough to hide the tears that have started to fall down her cheeks.

  “Yara,” I call as I scramble to my feet. I’m still dazed and a little weary from just waking up, so I stumble and then fall to the ground with a huff. “Yara!”

  She bolts. Within an instant, I’ve lost sight of her. I push myself to standing and look around, trying to find a path.

  “Yara,” I call as I start to run. “Wait!”

  By the time I catch up with her, she’s just about to shimmy through the gap in the hedge at the back of her garden.

  “Yara,” I breathe, grabbing her hand.

  She slips out of my grasp and carries on. I hesitate for a second, my eyes focusing on the sad-looking house that looms in front of me, and then I duck between the gap she just disappeared through and march into her garden.

  A weird sensation settles in the pit of my stomach as I walk across the grass and uneven patio. I’ve always thought something was off about this house, and now I’m sure about it. Despite the flowering shrubs and fruit trees that are littered all over the garden, it smells like bad drains and sewage. And I swear I can see shadows in places where there’s nothing that would create them.

  I shiver, keeping my head down, and stride forward until I get to her back door.

  I lift my hand to knock, but then I hear Yara shriek so I turn the knob without bothering to knock and walk right in. The first thing I notice is the overloaded bin, followed by dirty dishes that are lined up near the sink. As I walk past the table, I see scattered crumbs all over it, and there’s mud smudged on the floor in weird sweeping shapes as if someone has swiped their hand through it.

  What the hell?

  “Where have you been all night, Yara?”

  I freeze as Joanna’s voice carries through the hallway and into the kitchen.

  “Nowhere.”

  “Don’t lie to me, girl.”

  “I’m not, Granny,” cries Yara. “I just went for a walk early this morning.”

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Yara Hendricks, but you’re changing. And I sure as shit don’t like it.”

  Joanna swears?

  “Please, Granny,” Yara pleads. “Not today. Please don’t do this today.”

  Joanna huffs. At first I think that’s the end of the conversation, but then I hear her hiss, “Today is my dead daughter’s birthday. Nothing more. And the reason she’s not here celebrating her thirtieth birthday is because of you!”

  Yara’s mum had Yara on her fourteenth birthday?

  “And I hate you for it,” Joanna spits.

  So it r
eally was Yara’s fault? Lulu Deburge was right all along?

  “It’s my birthday, too,” whispers Yara. “You can’t keep doing this, Granny. You shouldn’t be hating me, you should be giving me a card and wishing me a happy birthday.”

  “The only thing I’ll gladly give you is a slap across that horrible little face of yours.”

  I’ve heard enough. I noisily walk through the hallway, noticing the worn carpet and the bits of plaster that have fallen off the wall, and stop just outside the living room “Who’s there?” calls Joanna.

  I hear light footsteps and then suddenly Yara is right in front of me.

  “Gabriel,” she breathes, looking surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to check on you,” I tell her, realising as I say it that I might have just landed her in it.

  “Get that devil boy outta here,” bellows Joanna.

  Devil boy?

  “Come on, Yara,” I say, grabbing her hand. I have to get her away from here. It stinks. It’s dirty. And she clearly isn’t going to get shit from her grandmother on her sixteenth birthday.

  “Yara,” calls Joanna, “I forbid you to go anywhere with that boy. Do you hear?”

  We both ignore her as I lead her back through the house and into the garden. Yara stiffens when we start to walk across the grass, but she doesn’t try to stop me. She just follows meekly behind until I get her back to the place where she took me last night. My new favourite place.

  Yara

  He’s still holding my hand, even though he hasn’t spoken a single word since we left the house. I hate that Gabriel has seen inside, and I can’t stand the fact that he must have heard how Granny was speaking to me. I especially don’t like the fact that he knows I kissed him when he was asleep. He was right; it was weird. I’m weird.

  As I think about what me must think of me now, I feel my whole body begin to shake. My hands tingle and then my chest starts to wheeze as I take short, shallow breaths.

  “Are you okay?” Gabriel asks, lifting my chin with his fingers.