Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

“What are you doing, crazy person?” she asked, as I jammed the keys into the ignition.

“We’ve got to hurry, before you change your mind,” I said, only semi-joking.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye toss her head back and laugh. And within seconds, I was peeling out of the parking lot and heading toward the little diner at the edge of town.

* * *

Donna’s was filling up, no doubt because of all of the people in town for the parade. Julia and I quickly found a corner booth and slid in. A few seconds later, I watched as a shorter boy with shaggy hair and a Donna’s Café polo noticed us and shuffled toward our booth.

“Hey, man, congrats on your guys’ win,” the boy said after he had planted his feet at the end of our table.

I looked up at him. He had a cheesy grin on his face, and he was wearing a pin with our mascot on it.

“Thanks,” I said, through a smile.

“Hey, Adam,” Julia warmly said.

“Hi, Julia,” the boy replied, cowering a little.

He looked at her a little too long with that cheesy grin of his. Julia had already returned her eyes to the menu, so she didn’t even notice. I cleared my throat, which seemed to do the trick. It broke the boy’s stare, and he started instinctively scribbling something onto his little notepad. It couldn’t be words.

His pen eventually stopped, and he looked up and caught my stare. I was pretty sure I had a puzzled, though now slightly intrigued, look on my face. It was interesting how he had been so drawn to her to the point that I might as well have been invisible. But I couldn’t be mad at him. He probably only saw what I had always seen in her.

“Uh, I’ll just give you guys some time to decide then,” the boy said, smiling awkwardly.

I watched him jam the little pad of paper back into his pocket and scurry off.

My eyes fell back onto Julia then. She was still looking at the menu. I had a smile on my face that I couldn’t imagine wiping off.

“Cheeseburger or chicken strips?” she asked me, without looking up.

I heard her, but her words sounded more like a song than a question, so I failed to answer her.

Her eyes eventually turned up toward mine, and soon, her lips broke out into a smile.

“Cheeseburger it is,” she said.

She glanced at the paper menu one more time and then slid it behind a ketchup bottle against the window.

“So, how does it feel to be a state champion?” she asked.

My eyes faltered, and a laugh followed.

“Pretty good,” I admitted. “But I’m not so sure it’s better than this.”

She stared at me for a second and then laughed.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said. “I know that every one of you guys have been dreaming of a basketball state championship ever since the day you picked up a ball.”

I lowered my eyes and chuckled to myself.

“Julia Lang,” I said, pausing and then returning my eyes to hers.

“If you only knew how many cheesy Valentine’s cards I wrote you that never reached you,” I said.

She stopped and sent me a slightly puzzled look.

“Yeah, I know it might seem like I’m head over heels for a girl I barely know, but I know more about you than you think,” I said.

“Really?” she asked.

She sat back in the booth and smiled, in a challenging kind of way.

“Really,” I said.

Her suspicious eyes locked onto mine.

“You guys ready to order?” asked the boy, in a high-pitched, cracking voice.

He had reappeared from out of nowhere.

Julia looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back, held his stare a second too long, then quickly hurled his gaze in my direction.

I knew I must have given him a puzzled look again because he quickly forced his eyes back to his notepad and started scribbling nonsense again.

Eventually, my puzzled stare left the boy and caught Julia’s bright green eyes, and I smiled.

“I’ll have the cheeseburger with fries,” she said, her eyes still locked in mine.

I’ll have the same,” I said, only taking my eyes off of her long enough to make sure the shaggy-haired boy had gotten our order.

He finished scribbling onto his pad and then quickly disappeared.

“So, we played on tractors together when we were kids,” she said, now resting her elbows on the table, her hands under her chin. “That hardly counts as ‘knowing me.’”

I chuckled and sat back in the booth.

“Okay,” I said. “Fair enough. What about the basketball game in junior high when you broke your arm?”

I watched her brows dart together and her eyes squint a little.

“You were there?” she asked.

“I was,” I said. “I had my mom drop me off. We almost got lost finding the place. Turns out, those little, rural schools are pretty well-hidden.”

She slowly sat back in the booth again. She seemed to be thinking — back, maybe.

“You didn’t cry,” I said.

Her lips started to part into a half-smile.

“I was the one who held the door for you when you left the gym to go to the emergency room,” I said. “You said ‘thank you,’ and I remember thinking, Why isn’t she crying?”

Her expression looked soft and thoughtful, as if she was playing back each moment in her mind.

“And when we were nine,” I continued, “I was at the park, and I fell trying to skateboard and tore my knee to pieces. You stayed with me until my dad came and got me.”

“That was you?” she asked.

There was surprise — almost disbelief — in her voice.

“And there was another time,” I went on, “when you were at the movies with your friends and Jeff was being Jeff, and he strolled right up to you and hit on you — like you would expect a seventh-grader to hit on a girl. I couldn’t hear what you said to him, and he never told me, but you whispered something into his ear. But as you were whispering, you were smiling at me.”

I watched her cock her head a little. Her stare was now off somewhere in the distance.

“I said, ‘I have a boyfriend,’” she eventually said, returning her eyes to mine. “But I didn’t have a boyfriend.”

She shook her head, and a wide smile danced to life on her face.

“I remember looking at him — you,” she said and then paused. “I remember looking at you and then coming up with that excuse.”

Her stare faded away again before returning to me.

“Wow, now I see it was you all along, but it’s like it wasn’t you — like…”

“It was like you didn’t notice me,” I said.

Her smile softened and then slowly, she shook her head.

“It was like I didn’t notice you,” she confessed.

“Well, as long as you notice me now,” I said, smiling what I was sure was a goofy grin and sliding deeper into the booth.

Her lips broke open into a wide smile, and she softly laughed.

“I notice you now,” she said.

She was piercing my eyes with those beautiful, green weapons of hers. And I loved the hell out of it.

“I notice you now,” she said again.

“Julia,” I whispered as loud as I could. “Julia.”

I took out the few small rocks I had gathered from her driveway and had stuffed into my pocket and thrust one up into the half-open window. Then, I waited.

Nothing happened.

“Julia,” I called out a little louder.

I took a second rock and tossed it up at the glass, then a third. Then, suddenly, I saw a figure in the window. The shadowed outline pushed back the curtains and pressed a forehead against the screen.

“Will?” I heard a soft voice say. “What are you doing?”

“Julia,” I said, trying to keep my voice down.

Her head disappeared from the window for a second and then returned.

“It’s two in the morning,” she said into the screen.

“I know,” I said. “I want to show you something.”

She was quiet for a second.

“Will, it’s two in the morning,” she said again, but this time, she said it with a little more emphasis on the two part.

“Just this once,” I pleaded.

There was a long pause.

“Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll be down there in a minute.”

Her head started to disappear from the screen again.

“No,” I quickly said.

“What?” she asked, returning to the window.

“You’re kidding me?” I asked. “You’ll wake your parents, and they’ll never let me see you again. Just climb out the window.”

There was a long pause again, and I was imagining her giving me a sarcastic look, as if climbing out the window was a better way to her parents’ hearts.

She disappeared again from the window and then returned within a few moments. Then, I heard her fidgeting with the screen, and I smiled.

After a handful of seconds, the screen was out and one of her legs was swung over the windowsill.

“Now, be careful,” I said up to her, still trying to keep my voice down as much as possible.

She rested one foot on the porch roof and then swung the other leg over the sill as well. It was only then that I could fully see her with the help of the rays from the dusk-to-dawn light in the background. She was wearing those tiny boxer shorts that girls wear and a tank top that had the high school’s mascot plastered on the front of it. And there were little flip flop shoes on her feet.

“You don’t do this much, do you?” I asked.

Her eyes met mine with a blank stare.

“Your shoes,” I said, eyeing her feet. “Just be careful. Those don’t tend to be the best shoes for roof-climbin’.”

She tossed a sarcastic, but playful glare my way. Now, I didn’t have to imagine it.

“Now, what do I do?” she asked, perched near the windowsill.

“Just inch your way down,” I said. “I’ll catch you.”

She hesitated for a second, then raised her chin and eyed the ground where I was standing.

“It’s not far, I promise,” I assured her.

She found my eyes again and then hesitantly left the windowsill and used her arms to balance as she slowly shuffled down the tin roof. It took a minute, but she eventually reached the edge and then stopped.

“Come on,” I said, holding out my arms.

Her eyes were planted on the ground, and she looked as if she were frozen.

I threw my hands on my hips.

“If you sit there and stare at it too long, you’ll never jump,” I said.

Her gaze slowly found its way back to me.

“William Stephens,” she softly said, kneeling down closer to the tin, “you better catch me.”

There was a serious demand not only in her words but also in her eyes that now pierced mine. I felt a sly smile start to crawl its way across my face.

“Oh, I will,” I said, holding out my arms again.

She gave me a reprimanding smirk, while I tried to tame my wide grin. Then, she closed her eyes.

“One. Two. Three,” she slowly whispered.

Then, she opened her eyes, took a deep breath and stepped off the roof. I caught her inches before her feet hit the ground and wrapped my arms tightly around her little waist. And the next thing I knew, her lips were inches away from mine. But her eyes were closed, and she was laughing. She made me laugh too, and eventually, she opened her eyes and found mine. Then, her laughter faded into a sweet smile. I wanted to kiss her pretty lips right then. But I didn’t. Instead, I gently set her feet onto the ground and took her hand.

“Come on,” I said.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

I could hear her giggling behind me as I pulled her along.

“You’ll see,” I said.

I led her down the long, gravel driveway. It was dark, but the big light above us made it easier to see our steps.

“How did you get here?” she asked.

“Lou,” I said, stealing a glance at her. “How did you think I got here?”

“Lou?” she asked, scrunching the features of her face together.

“My truck,” I said and then paused. “Or…SUV or main form of transportation — whatever you fancy calling her,” I said, with a sideways grin.

“The girly name,” she exclaimed, as her expression brightened and she nodded her head in slow, exaggerated nods.

I was guessing she was remembering the night of the bonfire and Rachel’s big mouth.

“You named your truck?” she asked, with a wide grin.

I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders.

“Okay, but why Lou?” she asked.

“Why not Lou?” I asked.

“Come on,” she said. “I know you named it…”