Breaking Butterflies by M. Anjelais

Author:M. Anjelais [Anjelais, M.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2014-08-26T04:00:00+00:00

Now that I was its sole guest, Leigh’s house seemed larger and more imposing. I walked through her front door and into her entrance hall feeling as though I had never really noticed how big the place was. In a daze, I left my shoes on the communal pile in the mudroom and followed Leigh into the kitchen while Cadence disappeared out onto the back patio, letting the door slam behind him.

Vivienne was at the stove, a large pot simmering gently in front of her. She had a wooden spoon tucked behind her ear like a pencil, and the silver bangles around her wrists jingled happily when she moved. Her shirt had a humongous purple peace sign spreading across the front of it. She turned and smiled at me when I came into the kitchen.

“I heard you’ll be with us a little longer, huh?” she said, taking the spoon from behind her ear and sticking it into the pot. “I’m glad you like it here so much.” She stirred the soup, back and forth. “It’s so nice that you want to be here for Cadence.”

I bristled without meaning to. This particular thing had been quietly grating on me ever since it first came up: the way that it was “so nice,” “so good” of me, to stay with Cadence. Some girls I knew from school at home might have thought of me as a goody two-shoes; I didn’t sneak out at night or party, nor had I ever experimented with drinking or drugs. Even so, I was not a saint. And I thought there was something sad about it, that everyone thought of me as so good when I wasn’t, and of Cadence as so terribly bad. Nothing was ever said aloud, but it was still sad. We were both just teenagers; I was just as prone to getting in trouble for a stupid mistake as he was. And it was very possible that my continued presence in the house was a stupid mistake in itself.

“You could move into the room your mom was using, if you want to,” Leigh said, tearing me away from my thoughts. “It’s bigger, and it has its own little bathroom attached too.”

“Oh, thanks,” I said, still feeling slightly uncomfortable. The fact that my mother was no longer there was making me feel insecure; I didn’t want to take her room and be constantly reminded that I was really on my own now. Not to mention being constantly reminded of her, and our discussions, and the plan, and the rift. It was a paradox. I wanted her back and I didn’t. “Maybe I will, but I don’t know. I really like the room I’m in now, it’s so pretty.”

“Oh, good, I’m happy you like it,” Leigh said. “I wasn’t so sure about it when I decorated it.”

“I think it’s great,” I told her. Not only did her house seem to have grown, but her conversations with me had grown suddenly awkward. “Do you know where

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