Butterfly Suicide by Loesch Mary Ann

Author:Loesch, Mary Ann [Loesch, Mary Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-10T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

STEPHEN

The temperature at the park is a blistery one hundred degrees, and the anticipation of seeing Monica makes me even warmer. The willow tree I’ve picked out for our meeting casts a long umbrella of shade, but it doesn’t really fight the heat. I watch the long tendrils of the tree brush down to the ground, sheltering the bench I’m sitting on in a canvas of green. It reminds me of Monica’s hair and the way it wisps out when the wind blows.

What if she doesn’t come? I really need to talk to her about something.

Even as I think that, I see her strolling down the sidewalk, a small smile on her face, her green eyes already locking with mine. She is confident and graceful, not worried about being seen, but I can’t help thinking it’s just a false front and she is starting to unravel. If her friends popped out of the neighboring trees, she would run away in an instant. Luckily, our spot is not near the entrance of the park or close to the playground. The chance of someone from school coming along and catching us is remote.

“Hi!” She plops down on the bench beneath the tree. “Is it me or is damn hot?”

“It’s hot.” I scoot over so she can have more shade from the tree. “Africa hot.”

She eyeballs our hangout while fanning herself with one hand. “So this is where you hide when you want to think deep, moody Stephen thoughts?”

“Yeah. Whenever Mom was gone and Jude was being an asshole, I would come here. I used to climb the trees a lot. Sometimes read books.”

“What kind of books are you in to?”

“I don’t know. Whatever catches my interest.”

I don’t tell her I’ve already read most of the books on the AP reading list for juniors even though I’m a mere freshman. There’s a lot I don’t know about impressing girls, but being a book nerd probably isn’t as cool as being a weightlifter or a racecar driver. Not that I claim either of those occupations either.

“What was the last book you read?” she asks.

“Um...a castaway book called The Martian. It’s about a guy who ends up being stranded on Mars. They made it into a movie with that guy from Good Will Hunting.”

“I saw the movie, but haven’t read the book.”

“You should check it out. You’re a sci-fi chick, right?”

She nods and leans back, resting her head on the willow tree. I do the same and we are both quiet, absorbing the heat, the light, and the craziness of being together. I want to touch her, hold her hand maybe, but I can’t really think of a slick way to do that without seeming ridiculous.

“Do you...do you miss your brother?” she asks, softly.

“Sometimes.”

I say it without thinking. There were times when we got along great. The highs for Jude were sometimes highs for me, too. I liked the brother who would take me fishing at the creek or show me his porn collection, the brother who sometimes bought us ice cream or played video games with me.

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