Becoming A Butterfly (The Butterfly Chronicles) Page 6

  “OK, Lana, tell Dad I’ll be right down.” I rolled my eyes at her, and she returned with a glare. Chase smirked at me as soon as she left. He helped me pick up the snack trash we’d made, and I walked him to the front door. If he could be a gentleman, I could be a lady. Then I went to the kitchen to take my seat at the table. Mom and Dad were still dishing up the food.

  “When did you get boobs?” I asked, staring at Lana’s shirt again, totally surprised that I had somehow missed the transformation of my little sister into a teenager.

  “I’ve had boobs, Stupid,” she replied, as she took out her gum and stuck it to her paper napkin. I did feel stupid—and inadequate. Boobs were another thing that she shared with my mother.

  Chapter 10

  I lay low at school, keeping my eyes down and my opinions to myself. Tasha and Jade could tell something was bothering me. They both kept a watchful eye over me like mother hens. Before class I sat in biology studying a diagram of the life cycle of the butterfly. I knew this was the kind of thing Mr. Epler loved to pop a quiz on. Suddenly, a long, perfectly manicured hot pink finger pointed at the larva.

  “You,” Bea growled.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, looking up into her hard eyes.

  “You, you’re a worm.” I rolled my eyes. She giggled viciously and went on to her seat. She would think the larva of a monarch butterfly was simply a worm. Did she even realize that it had legs?

  “Well, at least I don’t have to worry about taking her on in a battle of wits,” I said under my breath. Sitting at the table across from me, Chase chuckled, and I glared at him. His eyes narrowed momentarily; then he looked away.

  At lunch, Jade finally asked what was bothering me. In one hushed breath, I shared with them my entire predicament. As if on cue, after we finished, Chase sat on the bench beside me and sat his tray down. We all looked at him in astonishment.

  “I thought we were friends now, no?” His eyes pierced me. Jade rolled her eyes, and Tasha looked away. I shrugged, a bit numb after I’d unloaded on my friends. Chase dug into his pizza, and I rolled my apple between my hands.

  “Who do you think you are?” Jade asked, more matter-of-fact than accusing.

  “Oh, sorry. I’m Chase. I moved up from Columbus last summer. I thought everyone knew who I was,” he answered innocently. Tasha’s eyes widened, and she sat down her fork.

  “I know who you are, but if you needed help with your band, I’m sure Lacey would have helped if she could. You didn’t have to blackmail her,” Jade said as I leaned back and was slowly shaking my head and mentally screaming at her to stop. He watched me out of the corner of his eye, I leaned forward, busted in my attempt to diffuse Jade.

  “I just felt that she might have needed some encouragement. Does that offend you?” There he went talking like an old man.

  “Yes, actually it does.” She glared at him, her anger seeping from her pores.

  “Wow, then this is awkward. You’re not going to like what I’m going to say next.” We all just stared at him, and he continued, “I was going to say that if you want me to keep your friend’s secret, then you should take pictures of my band, and Farrah should be there, too.” He turned to me. I couldn’t believe what he was saying.

  “And if I refuse?” Jade asked sharply.

  “Then I will spread the truth as a vicious rumor but with proof,” he said, as he produced his phone with a picture of me taking off my wig in my dad’s car.

  “You wouldn’t,” Jade said, as all the color drained from her face. She was afraid for me.

  “Of course I would. All I have to lose is nothing, and everything to gain, along with your embarrassment and further outcast.” He leaned forward on his elbows and smiled at her. “Don’t tempt me.” I scooted away from him without even thinking. What did he have against me?

  “Fine,” Jade conceded. He chewed on his pizza, and we ate in silence.

  When he was done, he rose, barely smiled at us, and he said, “This was fun girls; we should do it again. Lacey, I’ll see you later in class.”

  After school and work for my parents, I went home. In my room I took down my secret stash of money from the top corner of my closet. I counted it out and was surprised that I had, in fact, raised the funds for my car with a few hundred to spare. I was sure that would get eaten up with the plate and the taxes. When my dad got home, he promised to call Tasha’s dad and take me after school the next day to purchase my car. I was beyond happy. That small light at the end of the tunnel made everything with Chase seem irrelevant. I began building Chase’s website while I waited for Henry to IM me. He and I had a better chat that evening, and I felt like we were getting closer and closer. I just had to figure out a way to reveal myself and not damage our relationship. Would that even be possible? I wasn’t sure, but boy, did I hope so. After everything, I felt comfortable enough to be around him. I noticed that at school people were still using expressions I had said on pages and gossiping about Henry and Farrah. He was not silent about his relationship with her.

  I was getting ready for school when Lana came in. She watched me in the mirror as I attempted putting on a dab of brown eye shadow.

  “Can I borrow your black top?” she asked.

  “Which one?” I asked shortly. I was running late and didn’t have time to deal with her.

  “This one?” She held up a long-sleeved, black cotton knit top. It had a high collar and long torso.

  “You’ll burn up in that today. Besides it will swallow you up.” She looked down at the hanger. “You’re not going to wear it as a dress are you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  “No!” she exclaimed terror in her eyes. “I’m wearing it with jeans and a big belt.” I thought about it for a minute and thought that would actually look good.

  “Yeah, but wash it before you return it, OK?”

  “OK.” She turned and left. She didn’t bounce from my room like usual, but I didn’t have to time to ask her if something was bothering her. I raced downstairs and out the door to school.

  Later that day as I was packing up my things, Chase leaned against the locker beside mine.

  “Do you want a ride to your house?” I looked at him confused. “So, we can work on the music?” He drew out his words as if I didn’t speak the same language as him.

  “Oh, I can’t today. My dad is taking me to buy a car.”

  “You realize your deadline is fast approaching, and you haven’t even touched the website yet.”

  “I’m sure it won’t take very long. I’m paying cash and there shouldn’t be much to it. I’ll meet you somewhere when I’m done or you can just come over if you want.” I thought I was being more than helpful.

  “Fine, I’ll text you an address. Don’t be too long.” He frowned.

  I practically skipped out to my dad sitting at the curb. When I climbed in, he shared my goofy grin, and we drove to the car dealership.

  Unfortunately, there was a lot of paperwork to sign for the car. I couldn’t sign for anything; my dad had to, but it didn’t change the fact that it was my car. Finally, I had my wheels. I was beside myself with excitement. I have to say I think my dad was a bit envious of my first car, too.

  The salesman Bill took a picture of my dad, Mr. Watkins, and me in front of my car. It was a bit surreal.

  “The rules haven’t changed,” my dad said, as he held the keys just above my outstretched hand. “No careless driving, no texting, no cell talk while driving. Curfew is still ten-thirty.” I nodded. He dropped the keys into my hand, and I leapt into his arms.

  “Thank you, Daddy.” I squeezed him one last time before jumping into my new ride. The dealership had detailed it nicely for me, and someone put a pair of dice in the rearview mirror. I felt safe in it. It wasn’t a fiberglass car; it was heavy metal. I checked the GPS on my phone and plugged it into the mp3 cord to the radio, which looked original at first glance but was actually a vintage replica. I knew the street, but decided to use it for the exact address. Driving to Green
Street and Dooley’s Garage, which sat just off the main thoroughfare, was my destination. After I parked, the tips of my fingers traced the steering wheel, almost not believing this was real, but it was. I felt it; it was mine. I got out and grabbed my school bag. One garage door was raised, and there were a few cars parked inside, one with the hood up, but no one was there.

  “Hello?” I called out, hovering in the doorway. The excitement from my car was overshadowed suddenly with dread. I didn’t want to spend time with Chase. Part of me hoped he wasn’t here.

  “Hey.” Wiping his hands with a dirty red rag, Chase walked around from behind the car in his standard ripped-up jeans with a blue work shirt over his white t-shirt. Then he looked out to the parking lot and my shiny new car. He nodded toward it. “How’d you manage that? I’ve had my eye on that car for six months.” His voice was thick with surprise.

  “I’ve been saving too, plus I know the owner, so I negotiated a deal when he first acquired it. So, you work here?” I asked, surveying the dust-covered area, trying not to turn up my nose. He watched me for a long moment.

  “Yeah, I work here. You can set up over there,” he said, pointing with the wrench to a counter on the other side of the car he worked on. I didn’t set my stuff down as I surveyed the counter. It was cluttered with oily tools, more dust, and dirty rags.

  “I don’t mean to be such a girl, but can I clean this off with something?” I asked, clinging to my bag with both hands. He just rolled his eyes and went into the waiting area. He returned with a spray bottle and some blue shop towels. He stepped in front of me and wiped down the counter to reveal a silver metal surface. Then he took it a step further and wiped down the tall chair.

  “Does it please the princess?” he asked in a fake British accent.

  “Funny,” I said, avoiding eye contact. He turned his back to me and went back to the car.

  “Where did we leave off?” he grunted as he used a socket wrench.

  “Track three.” I set up my computer and sat down on the stool delicately. I began to play it.

  I’m outside, looking in

  Wondering if you’ll let me win,

  You said I had lessons to learn,

  I said I had rubber to burn.

  My cigarettes burn fast,

  But my stride is slow,

  And because of my past,

  I don’t have anywhere to hide.

  Could I just call you home?

  I’m trapped inside, looking out,

  As you run free to laugh and shout,

  You said I had to learn my place,

  But I saw regret line your face,

  Could I just call you home?

  “You didn’t mix that track,” he said, bracing himself against the car with his back to me. I looked up, realizing I’d just sat there listening to the words.

  “Who writes your lyrics?” I asked, as I started the song over and began to mix it.

  “I do mostly. I wrote that song.” He walked around the car and messed with something else. Our eyes met, but I looked down.

  “That song is so sad.”

  “It’s about being lost, wandering. Have you ever felt like that?” Then he smirked, “No, of course you haven’t.”

  “That’s not fair!” My anger flared though I knew he was right.

  “I bet the craziest thing you’ve ever done is what you’re doing now.” He pointed at me with the wrench again. Was that thing attached to his hand? “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He returned to his work, and I blushed.

  “At least I don’t hide behind snide remarks and oil stains,” I said under my breath. He let out a short chuckle but didn’t say anything. “Where is everyone?” I looked, around changing the subject as I realized I hadn’t seen anyone else there.

  “The shop closes at six; I hung around to wait for you.”

  “Oh.”

  We mixed three more songs before deciding to call it a night. It was starting to get late. I packed up as he cleaned up. He emerged from the bathroom, his hands almost completely clean. We walked out to the parking lot, and he closed the garage door.

  “So do you want to take that thing for a ride?” he asked and smiled at my car.

  “Yeah, home,” I said.

  “Come on; at least let me ride in it. I’ll buy you a coffee.” I did love my coffee, and I was broke.

  “Extortion and bribery? Are you a spy?” I asked, opening the door and putting my bag in the back seat.

  “The name is Livingston, Chase Livingston,” he said, as he gave me a devastating smile. I didn’t know he was capable of such an action. Smiling at me that way, he made my stomach do a little flop and my heart sputter.

  “Get in the car,” I said, rolling my eyes. We headed to Starbucks. He looked in the glove box, messed with the radio, and finally leaned back and just watched me drive, something that made me more nervous than his nosiness. Luckily, it was a short drive; we arrived, got our coffee, found a table outside, and sipped it in an awkward silence. I almost could imagine we were friends hanging out if it weren’t for the blackmail.

  “I started—” “So I was thinking—” we began at the same time. “You go,” he said, giving me a small smile.

  “I started working on the website, so if we keep up our pace, we should be done by your deadline, and we’ll be through with each other.” I shrugged. He watched me for a moment, and his eyes darkened. “What were you going to say?” I asked nervously before I took a sip of my mocha coffee. He cleared his throat.

  “I was just going to say that I was thinking that the sooner we got this all done the better.” He looked away.

  “OK.”

  “So are we done here?” I looked up in surprise. I wasn’t even halfway through my coffee.

  “Sure.” I rose. I took him back to the shop where his motorcycle was nowhere in sight.

  “Here’s OK.” I pulled to a stop in front of a yellow and brown car.

  “What is that?” I didn’t recognize the model though it had a silver hood emblem of a cougar in a circle.

  “A ’78 Mercury Cougar. It was my dad’s. We restored it when I was thirteen, and then last summer, he gave it to me. Pretty cool, huh?” It definitely was, and the sparkle in his eye when he talked about his dad made me wonder if it was possible there was something more to him.

  “Are you guys close?”

  “Yeah, he taught me everything I know about cars. Things got tough when my parents split. He moved here, and it was strange not seeing him every day.”

  “I’m sorry.” Without thinking, I reached for his hand and squeezed it. He looked down at my hand.

  “Don’t be; life happens,” he said softly and slowly pulled his hand away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Chapter 11

  “I can’t BELIEVE he rode in your car before us!” Jade exclaimed.

  “That really should have been us,” Tasha seconded as I drove us to school.

  “It handles like a breeze though, doesn’t it?” I asked, trying to shift the focus.

  “I feel like I should be in a rap video,” Tasha giggled from the back seat.

  “Minus the twenty-twos and hoes,” Jade added.

  “And the rapping skills.” I looked at Jade pointedly.