Ava Mallory's mother is dying.
Her fifth-grade class is studying butterflies, a creature that's been extinct for decades.
She found an abandoned, empty journal on the playground one day.
So she writes. About anything. Everything. Trying to understand what's happening, to reconcile her family, to explore the fragility of dreams.
And butterflies.
Hello.
~
Hi. I found your diary yesterday. Did you hide it behind the tree on purpose? Are you in my class? I’m Ava.
~
Hello? Are you there? I didn’t look through your journal, I swear.
…Okay…maybe a little. But I didn’t see anything. I promise. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. I pinky promise on that.
~
Hellooooooo? If you don’t write back by tomorrow, I’m going to take this journal home with me.
~
I was just kidding. I didn’t take it. See? It’s still here.
~
Fine. I guess this journal doesn’t belong to anyone. I’ll just bring it to the office, then.
~
Wednesday, October 28th, 2053
Well, well, well. We meet again, little yellow journal. The nice lady in the office said that since it had been a month and nobody had come to pick it up, I could keep it. It’s kind of exciting. I’ve never had a journal before. I wonder what I should write about? I guess I could start with what happened at recess today…
I was swinging by myself, because I love to swing, and because nobody ever talks to me anymore. I don’t care. I don’t need them. It’s just me, Ava Mallory, against the world. Doesn’t that sound like a movie? I wish I could be in a movie someday. Maybe when I’m all grown up and beautiful. Right now I’m kind of short, with messy, curly black hair and even blacker eyes. My skin’s too dark, and it’s not because I tan like all the popular people in magazines. I’ve got a stupid little nose that looks like a pig's, and there’s a gap between my teeth. My parents say it looks cute, but I think they’re just fibbing. Parents have to tell their kids they look good, even if it’s not really true. It’s like a weird parent rule.
Oh, come on. I just rambled again. My teacher says I do that too much. She says I’m always going off on tangents and…and I should get back to what happened.
Anyways, I was swinging, and Lissa came up with her gazillion billion friends. Lissa’s even smaller than me, but she’s a whole lot meaner. I don’t know why all those other girls hang out with her. Maybe they’re scared she’ll take all their nail polish if they don’t, or something like that. I don’t know.
“Ava, why do you always play by yourself? You’re such a weirdo.” She crossed her arms and stared at me. I kept swinging. Rising above temptation and all that.
“Hey, Ava, Lissa’s talking to you!” Katie shouted. Or maybe it was Kristen. They’re twins. Their parents gave them names that start with the same letter. Recipe for disaster.
Lissa grabbed my foot, almost jerking me off the swing. “Why don’t you ever talk? Just ‘cause your mom’s sick doesn’t mean you have to be all freaky.”
Hearing Lissa talk about my mom made me mad. So I kicked her with my other foot. Hard. Ish. Which wasn’t that hard, because I’m not very strong. My little brother Davie always beats me in arm-wrestling matches, and he’s six.
Lissa looked down at the dirt on her pink leggings and shoved me angrily. I fell on the ground, and the swing came back and hit me in the nose. It hurt. I clamped a hand over it a bit back a whimper. “I’m gonna tell Ms. Severs,” she hissed.
“Do it,” I glared at her, my voice coming out a little hoarse. “And I’ll tell her that you hit me. I’ve got the proof, see?” I held up my bloody hand. “Nice try, Lissa. Toodle-oo.” I said in a funny voice, mimicking my dad. He’s always saying strange words.
Lissa growled, like a little pink tiger. Or a housecat. A fat, declawed one. Then she flicked her blond hair over her shoulder and walked around imperiously. That’s a spelling word. See, Ms. Severs? I do I apply what I learn in school to real life. The rest of the girls followed her.
When we went back inside after recess, all the teachers freaked out. I got dragged down to the nurse’s office to clean up. I had to borrow a shirt, because mine was all stained. The shirt had to have belonged to a giant, because it hung down to my knees. I felt stupid, sitting there in the little glass room with nanotech bots – the nurse kind- flying all over my face, with goggling classmates pressed up against the walls. And I was wearing a circus tent. One of the bots beeped furiously at the crowd and slammed against the glass. Everyone ran away and I laughed, but not for long, because it hurt too much. The bot came back. Little words flicked across it’s screen – NEGATIVE. My nose wasn’t broken.
I told the nurse overseer that I fell on the pavement. She frowned and spoke into the phone.
My dad picked me up ten minutes later and I went home.
Thursday, October 29th, 2053
Today was better. Nobody pushed me off the swings. Nobody talked to me either, except for this one kid who sits at my table in school. He’s real shy. I don’t know his name. Anyways, he asked me if I was okay, because my nose was all puffy and purple. I told him I was attacked by a bear, but that I fought it off with a broomstick.
He stared at me for a bit. I ignored him, but I couldn’t stop my cheeks from flushing. He finally looked away.
That’s the only thing I said all day.
Friday, October 30th, 2053
Everyone’s all in a tizzy around here. It’s almost Halloween. I’m not going to dress up this year, but I am going to take Davie trick-or-treating. Mom has to go to the hospital so they can do more tests, and Dad’s going with her. Grandpa’s gonna stay with us, but he said I could be in charge of “the Halloween festivities”, since I wasn’t going to be doing anything. I told him I was too old for it – I’m eleven- but really, I just didn’t feel like it. Mom always made our costumes. Last year I was an owl. I wanted to be a fairy this year – a proper fairy, elegant and mysterious and stuff, not one of those silly little glowing lights, but Mom’s been too sick to do anything. I told her that it was okay and I even made her pancakes that weren’t burnt, but she still looked sad. Then Davie came in wearing a pot on his head and said he was a knight here to rescue her from the dragon. Then he poked me with a stick.
I hadn’t heard Mom laugh like that for a long time.
Saturday, October 31st, 2053
Well, it’s Halloween. Grandpa and Davie and me drove to the other side of the neighbor hood, the one with all the really nice, fancy houses. We’d left a big bowl of candy out on the porch. I told Grandpa that someone was going to take the entire bowl, but he just laughed and said something about the circle of life, which didn’t even make any sense. My Grandpa’s funny like that.
He’s really big and dark and he always wears overalls. The way he acts, you wouldn’t think he was old at all. His beard’s not even white. It’s just kind of grayish-brown and really big. My grandpa’s always smiling and talking about old movies or books. He’s really good at giving advice and always knows the answer to any question.
For Halloween, he’d tied a big red cape around his neck. He said he was a wizard. I said he was a medieval lord. Davie said he was a superhero. Grandpa laughed and said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
I didn’t get that either.
We walked down the street. Well, Grandpa and I walked. Davie clattered. He was wearing a big old cookie sheet around his neck and a salad bowl on his head. He held a stick in one hand and an ancient, cracked round sled on the other. I told him he looked ridiculous when we left. He said I looked even sillier, because my nose was all red and puffy. To make matters worse, Grandpa had insisted I wear a costume. When I’d refused, he and Davie pinned me down and slapped a pair of cat ears on my head.
“Ava, I wanna go over there,” Davie whined and tugged on my sleeve, pointing toward a giant house with a gazillion jack-o-lanterns on the front lawn.
“Fine,” I sighed, eyeing some of the spookier pumpkins nervously. A horde of costumed trick-or-treaters were coming down the driveway of the house.
“Hi, Ava.” A ghost murmured. I don’t know who it was. Who’d talk to me? Anyway, they left before I could place their voice.
Davie had already run up to the door and was ringing the doorbell furiously. I skulked behind him. Grandpa waited on the street. A nice-looking lady opened the door and stared at Davie, who was jumping up and down in excitement. “Trick-or-treat!” He screamed.
“What are you, honey?” The lady looked confused.
“I’m a knight!” Davie said proudly, shaking his stick. “See, I’ve gotta sword and a shield!” He lifted the sled.
“I…see.” She glanced at me and my stupid swollen nose and stupid little cat ears. I could imagine what she was thinking.
Poor. Parents’ don’t care. Troublemakers.
It made me mad. I didn’t kick her though. I just grabbed Davie’s arm once he’d gotten his candy and dragged him away. “C’mon, Davie. Let’s go to some other houses.”
We trick-or-treated for an hour and came home with the sniffles. Davie dumped his loot on the table and started organizing it. He’s always doing stuff like that. I don’t know why.
Grandpa ruffled my hair. “Good job tonight, Ava. You were very responsible.” He winked at me and I smiled. “You kids don’t stay up too late.” Then he went to bed.
“Hey, Davie, pass me that chocolate bar.” I sat down at the table.
Grandpa had never said not to eat too much candy.
Sunday, November 1st, 2053
I feel awful. Davie and me stayed up really late last night, eating candy and playing with the holographic game set. I know I ate way too much candy, because I threw up after playing Pirate Ship Battle. I don’t know why I agreed to play that game. I get seasick real easy. It’s Davie’s favorite, though.
So, there I was, shivering my timbers – why doesn’t someone get the poor trees some scarves already? – when I got sick all over the floor. Davie started screaming like someone had just cut off his toe. I had to tell him to get Grandpa four times.
Grandpa gave me some gross-tasting medicine and told me to go lie down. I guess I laid down a little too hard, because next thing I knew, it was today.
My dad was in my room, looking through my bookshelf.
“Hey, those are my books,” I protested. Dad turned around and held his hands up, like I was the police and he was a criminal.
“Sorry, Avie. How’re you feeling?”
“I’m fine. I just ate too much candy.”
My dad sighed. “Ava, I thought you knew better than that.”
I felt my cheeks get hot and I looked at my hands. “I’m sorry,” I said softly.
“It’s okay. Are you hungry? I made waffles.”
“Yes!” I shouted, bouncing on my bed. I love waffles, especially my dad’s. They’re the best in the whole wide world, because he puts chocolate chips in them and strawberries and whipped cream on the top. I ran upstairs, and there was a big plate of waffles sitting on the table.
Just at my spot and Dad’s though.
“Where’s everyone else?” I sat down at the table.
“Grandpa took your mom and Davie to the library,” my dad said, sitting next to me.
“Oh.” I took a big bite and chewed it thoroughly. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full. “How did the testing go?”
“It…” my dad hesitated. I stopped eating, ‘cause my stomach felt hot all of a sudden. “They still don’t know what’s wrong with her.”
“Oh.” I said again. “But Mom’s gonna be all right, right?”
“Yeah. She’ll be fine.” Dad smiled and ate a strawberry.
But I knew he was lying.
Tuesday, November 3rd, 2053
Sorry I didn’t write in you yesterday. I still felt sick, so I stayed home from school. I felt better today, so Dad made me go. Humph.
The kid who sits at my table asked me where I was yesterday. I told him I was too busy being a pirate and searching for buried treasure to come to something silly like school. He stared at me again, but this time he smiled.
I smiled back.
Wednesday, November 4th. 2053
Ms. Severs came in today and said that we were going to be studying butterflies in science for the next month. Then she dropped a big box on the table.
Everyone just kind of stared at her. I’m sure we were all thinking the same thing.
What’s a butterfly?
Then she put us in groups of two and told us to brainstorm about what we thought a butterfly was. I got stuck with the shy kid. I decided it was rude to keep calling him the shy kid, so I asked him what his name was. He said Brian.
Brian’s really tall and super, super pale, with fluffy-looking black hair and green eyes. I felt silly standing next to him, because I only went up to his shoulder.
“I think a butterfly is some sort of mythological creature,” I said sourly. “I’ve never heard of them before.”
“Actually, they were real.” Brian said softly. I had to scoot closer to hear him.
“Really? What were they, flies made of butter?” I tried to picture that. I didn’t quite work.
“Well, they’re insects like flies, but I don’t think they were made of butter.”
“Good. ‘Cause they’d melt in the summer.” I wrote a note on our piece of paper.
BUTTERFLIES ≠ FLIES + BUTTER
Brian just looked at me funny. “What?” I said defensively.
“Nothing.” He looked away. See? Shy.
“How did you know about butterflies anyway?” I can be friendly when I try.
“Oh, uh…I read a lot. One of my favorite books is about a guy who goes around hunting butterflies.” `
“Cool.”
We kind of ran out of things to say after that. Luckily, Ms. Severs came along and handed us a holo-disc before things got too awkward. I pressed the little red button and an image appeared.
“Whoa,” I said. The thing was beautiful, all pale and blue and delicate. “That’s a butterfly? They’re so pretty!”
“What did you think they looked like?” Brian asked, looking at me through the shimmery light. I shrugged.
“I dunno. Something uglier, like a fly, I guess.” I poked my finger through the hologram, right underneath the butterfly’s legs, and giggled. “Look, it’s sitting on my finger!”
“Karner Blue,” Brian said, reading the words underneath the picture. “Extinct 2015.”
“Extinct? Doesn’t that mean that they’re all dead?”
“Yeah.” He frowned. I looked at the fake butterfly sitting on my finger and suddenly felt very sad.
Thursday, November 5th, 2053
Yesterday, Ms. Severs said that every species of butterfly was extinct. Some got sick. Others had their homes destroyed. The last kind of butterfly died in 2023.
It made me mad. Why would people do that to such pretty things? I bet they wouldn’t like it if the butterflies came and knocked their houses over.
I asked Grandpa if he’d ever seen a butterfly, ‘cause he’s old enough. He was born in 1989. Grandpa said yes, that he’d seen lots of them. Then he showed me a picture – not a hologram. Grandpa doesn’t like new technology, and he still uses the old phones that you have to touch with your finger for everything. Anyway, he brought the picture up, and it took forever. When it finally uploaded, he handed me the phone, which made me nervous. I always think it’s going to blow up or something. It’s that old.
The picture was of Grandpa when he was younger, standing in front of some funny-looking trees. There were butterflies all over – on the ground, on the trees, in the air, on Grandpa.
“Grandpa, where did you take this?” I squeaked excitedly. Grandpa laughed and took the phone back.
“That was in 2012. I remember it because everyone was saying the world was going to end. Your Grandma and I thought it was nonsense and went to a butterfly garden.”
“What’s that?”
“A butterfly garden is a place where they keep lots of butterflies and flowers for them to eat. There used to be lots of them when I was young.”
“And they just flew around everywhere? Just like that?” I wiggled my arms in excitement.
“Just like that.” Grandpa laughed again. “They were real pretty places.”
“I wish I could’ve gone to one, Grandpa,” I said, imagining myself in a room full of butterflies. “Why did they all have to die?”
Grandpa looked sad. “Sometimes, honey, beautiful things are just too good for this old world and they have to leave.”
Like Mom, I thought.
But I didn’t say it out loud.
Friday, November 6th, 2053
School got canceled today ‘cause of a blackout. All the power went out, and that meant no busses or cars. Dad had to walk to work. Davie and me stayed home with Mom. Grandpa was out doing what he called exploring life. I didn’t get it.
I guess I should probably tell you more about what’s wrong with my mom, huh? Even though you’re just a journal.
Mom’s name is Margarita and she is beautiful. She has long, black hair and skin the color of caramel. She’s really nice and always helps me when I need something. She loves to laugh. Sometimes she would even play with Davie and me.
That was before she got sick. One day Mom fell down and didn’t move, so Dad called the hospital. They were doing tests on her, really complicated, sciency stuff, and they said she was sick. Real sick. The doctors said it looked like a form of cancer, but that’s impossible. They cured cancer years ago, before I was born.
So they don’t really know what’s wrong with her. Mom and Dad and Grandpa all say she’s going to be fine. Sometimes I think they’re fibbing.
Mom can’t cook food for us anymore, or pretend to be an evil queen, or play her cello before bed. I try to help, but I always burn the food and I can only play the recorder. And Davie says I make a terrible villain.
Davie doesn’t really get it. He’s too little. He thinks Mom’s invincible.
But I know she’s not. No one is. Not even Superman, which is just wrong. If he’s so super, why can’t he just swoop in and make everything better?
Sunday, November 8th, 2053
We went to church today for the first time in weeks. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to see everyone gathering around Mom. I didn’t want to hear anyone telling us how sorry they were. I didn’t even want to talk to my friend Sally. I didn’t want to pray anymore, because I’d done that already. A million billion zillion times. God’s supposed to be even stronger than Superman. So why doesn’t he make Mom better?
So I just hid in the bathroom when I was supposed to go to Children’s Church.
I might’ve cried a little.
Monday, November 10th, 2053
Today we studied a butterfly’s life cycle. They hatch from eggs as these fuzzy looking-worms called caterpillars. Then they turn all hard and shiny and hang upside down from a branch. That’s called a chrysalis. They hang out in there for a while before coming out as butterflies.
Ms. Severs called it a metamorphosis. I call it magic.
Tuesday, November 11th, 2053
We watched an old video today. It was of a butterfly coming out of its cocoon. Lissa kept screaming about how gross it was. She’s so annoying. I wish she didn’t sit at our table. I told her to be quiet and she threw a pencil at me, but she missed and hit Brian instead. He didn’t say anything. He never does.
I learned that butterflies don’t just fly away after they get out. They can’t, ‘cause their wings are too heavy, ‘cause they’re still wet. They just sit there for hours and hours before they can do anything.
I guess it’s kind of like life.
Wednesday, November 12th, 2053
I just hate that Lissa! Why does she have to be so mean? It’s okay when she just picks on me, because I can ignore her because I know she’s just a stupid brat. But today she had to go and tease someone else.
I was in the sandbox, the one that’s really far away from the rest of the playground. I like it out there. I was busy making the moat for my castle when Brian came over and asked if he could play with me. I said sure. Brian spends most of his recesses alone, like me.
I finished the moat and filled it with imaginary water, and he made a tower. Then we started building a village. We used sticks for people and rocks for cows and sheep and stuff. I picked up a rock.
“There’s a dragon stealing this village’s sheep,” I explained. I flew it over to the castle. “Now he’s attacking the palace.”
Brian picked up a big stick. “I guess that means I’m the knight and you’re the princess?”
“Ew, no,” I giggled and stuck my tongue out at him. “I’ll be the knight and you can be the prince who gets kidnapped by the dragon.”
“Hey!” Brian protested. His cheeks turned red. “I thought the guy was supposed to save the girl.”
“Welcome to the future.” I punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow,” he fake-whined, rubbing his arm.
“Oh, come on. I didn’t even hit you that hard, you big baby.”
Brian was going to say something else when Lissa flounced up with her girl-pack. “Aw, isn’t this cute?” She sneered. “Look at the two quiet freaks. They’re perfect for each other.”
Some girls in the back started snickering. Brian flushed and turned his head away. He looked miserable.
That made me mad. Madder than anything Lissa had done before.
So I stood up and punched her in the nose.
Lissa fell on her butt and started screaming. Her face was all bloody. One of the girls in her posse ran off and got Ms. Severs. Everyone started flipping out and me and Brian ended up sitting in the principal’s office. Our principle is Mr. Tiff. He can be kind of scary sometimes.
“Ava Mallory and Brian Panomato.” He said sternly. Brian gulped. I just crossed my arms.”I’ve been told that you two were involved in a fight during recess today. Would you care to explain yourselves?”
“It’s my fault!” Brian almost shouted. “I was the one who hit Lissa.”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s lying. I hit her.” I glared at Brian. What was he thinking, lying like that? He didn’t deserve to get into trouble. Honestly, I just don’t understand boys.
Mr. Tiff looked at both of us. The lights were shining off his bald head. It was pretty distracting. “You both hit Lissa? Only one of you can be telling the truth.”
“It was me.” I pulled my arms tighter against my body. “Lissa was teasing Brian. So I punched her. It was her own fault. She deserved it anyway.”
“Ava.” Mr. Tiff sounded disappointed. “I understand that your family is going through hard times right now, but violence is inexcusable.”
“I’m not sorry.” I tried to sound like I meant it. “Just don’t punish Brian. He didn’t do anything.”
Mr. Tiff looked at Brian, who was staring at his feet. Then he sighed. “Ava, you’re suspended for a week.” I didn’t know what that word meant. “Stay here. Someone will come pick you up. Brian, you can go back to class.”
Brian stood up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered when he walked by me. “This is all my fault.”
“No it’s not, you idiot.” I hissed at him. “Just go.”
He left. Grandpa came and picked me up. I was grounded for the rest of the night, and Dad gave me ‘the talk’.
I cried myself to sleep.
Thursday, November 13th, 2053
It turns out being suspended means you can’t go back to school, or they’ll lock you up and feed you to the sharks.
I made that last part up. Just in case you were worried.
I spent all of yesterday hiding in my room. Well…I tried. I got hungry. And I had to use the bathroom a lot. I think Grandpa saw me sneaking into the kitchen for crackers, but he didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything either.
I didn’t want to talk to anybody.
I was eating crackers and staring at the clock. School had just gotten out. Then the doorbell rang. I heard Grandpa’s heavy footsteps on the ceiling. He’s so big he makes the floor creak.
“Ava!” Grandpa called. “Someone’s here to see you.”
“Tell them to go away!” I shouted. “I’m not here.”
“Yes you are. Now come up and talk to this young man.”
I grumbled to myself and stormed up the stairs. Grandpa stole a cracker from the box when I went past him. The door was open and Brian was standing outside it. Holding a really big book.
“Uh…why are you here?” I still felt like being rude.
“Well, um, we’re partners on this butterfly project, right? Ms. Severs gave us an assignment today, and you weren’t there, so I thought I’d, uh, come over…”
He didn’t look at me. “Sorry to bother you.”
I uncrossed my arms. “Oh. Okay. D’you wanna come in?”
“Oh, uh, okay.” Brian stammers a lot. He come in and started looking around. My house is small but it’s always clean. Mama painted the walls, so they’re purple and green and blue, and there are clouds on the kitchen ceiling.
I went and shoved my books and other school stuff off the table. “You can sit down, you know.” I told Brian, ‘cause he was just standing there looking awkward.
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologizing.”
He started to say sorry again but stopped. I sat on a chair and pushed the other one out with my foot. Brian sat in it.
“So what’s the assignment?”
Brian put the book on the table. “We have to research a kind of butterfly and then make a poster about it.”
“What, by hand?”
“Yeah. Ms. Severs said she wanted us to try new methods.”
“Ugh. Fine.” I puffed up my cheeks and blew hair out of my face. “So what kind of butterfly did we get?”
“This one.” He opened the book. I scooted closer.
They were so pretty. The butterflies were orange with black stripes and little white spots all around their wings. “Oh,” I said. “They’re beautiful.”
“The book says they’re called monarchs. There used to be tons of them all over.”
“What happened to them?”
“Uh…” Brian turned a page. “All the trees they lived in during winter were cut down. They didn’t have anywhere to go.”
“That’s really sad.”
“Yeah.”
I turned the page back and stared at the butterflies. There was a picture of a caterpillar next to a butterfly on a flower. “Is that what they looked like as caterpillars? They’re cute.”
“Uh, sure, if you say so.” Brian looked uncomfortable. I guess it was because I was mostly lying on his arm. I slid back into my chair.
“So, we have to research what?”
“What they looked like, what they ate, where they migrated –“
“What?”
“Migration is when animals go somewhere else for winter.” He explained.
“Oh. Okay. Keep going.”
“And how long they lived. Oh yeah, we also have to draw a picture.”
“It doesn’t sound too hard. When’s it due?”
Brian mumbled something I didn’t quite get. “What?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?!” I almost screamed. “Are you kidding?”
“Sorry,” Brian said quietly. I sighed. This was starting to get annoying.
“It’s not your fault. Stop apologizing for things that aren’t your fault. I’ll be right back.” I stood up. “And eat a cracker.” I shoved one in his face and went downstairs to the closet where Mom keeps all of her art stuff.
Davie was in there drawing on the floor. “You’re going to get in trouble,” I told him.
“No I’m not.” Davie kept drawing. It looked like a dragon. “Besides, Mom doesn’t care. She let you draw on the walls, remember?” I ignored my ugly fairies. “Whatever. Just stay out of me and Brian’s way, okay?”
“’Kay.”
I grabbed a bunch of markers and a big sheet of paper. Mom likes doing art the old-fashioned way. I don’t really get why you’d want to do it by hand when you could do it digitally. I went back upstairs. Brian was eating a cracker and staring at the clouds on the ceiling.
“I got some stuff,” I said, waving it around.
“Oh, good.”
“I think we should do the butterfly first, so we have enough room. Are you any good at drawing?” I sure wasn’t. The hideous pixies that lived in the closet were proof.
“A little, I guess.” He shrugged.
“Good enough. You can do it.”
“O-okay.” He picked up a black marker and started drawing. I peeked over his shoulder. It looked amazing. I never knew Brian was such a good artist.
“That’s awesome!” Brian turned pink. It was pretty cute.
“Thanks.”
We finished the rest of the poster in a couple hours. I showed it to Mom and Dad when they got home. They thought it looked pretty cool. Grandpa invited Brian to stay for dinner, but he had to leave. Brian said goodbye and the entire time Mom was just looking at the two of us funny. After dinner she asked me if I had a crush on him. I said I didn’t and stomped away. Mom just laughed.
Can I tell you a secret? I do like Brian. Not in that mushy romantic kind of way, though. Ew, no. Ick. You’ll never catch me slobbering all over someone’s face they way they do in the movie.
But he’s a pretty nice guy. I think we can be friends.
Monday, November 17th, 2053
Argh, I’m sooooo bored! The only exciting thing that happened this weekend was that my cat got stuck in the cat flap. Again. His name is Lynx and he’s really, really, really fat and old. He’s got long brown fur with black stripes all over, and he thinks everything is out to get him. He’s not super bright either.
Lynx likes to jump on people’s feet. I just drag him around when he does it to me. Davie always screams and runs away. Mom just smiles. She’s had Lynx since before I was born. Lynx loves Mom. He’s always sitting or lying or jumping or sneaking up on her. The only thing he ever does to me is be annoying.
Today I was reading when Lynx came up and sat on my face. I pushed him off and told him to stop that, but he just stared at me with his giant round eyes and meowed. Then he ran away. Probably to his food bowl.
Sometimes I wish I were a cat. They don’t have to worry about anything. All they do is sleep and eat and get fussed over. It sounds pretty nice, actually.
…I think I’m going crazy, being stuck in this house for so long.
Tuesday, November 18th, 2053
I was so bored today that I asked Grandpa if I could go to the library. He said yes, but I had to walk there. How outdated is that? Nobody walks anywhere anymore. I told Grandpa that. He just said that suffering builds character.
I actually got that one.
But I don’t like it.
So I walked to the library. It’s only like a mile away from our house, and the neighborhoods really safe. There are police nan-tech bots everywhere. One of them followed me for a bit. It was kind of freaky. I thought non-rule-breaking thoughts and it went away. Mom used to be a librarian. Davie and me practically lived here when we were littler. It’s an old building, ‘cause there aren’t a lot of libraries left. I walked inside and the librarian started talking to me. Her name’s Miss Patts. She’s pretty old, but she’s super-duper nice.
“Ava, I haven’t seen you in here in forever.” She smiled. “How’s your mother doing?”
“Okay, I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“That’s good. Hey, shouldn’t you be in school?”
“It’s a day off,” I lied. I felt bad, but I didn’t want Miss Patts to know I’d been kicked out for fighting.
“Oh. Well, let me know if you need any help.”
“Okay.” I wandered away. The library was quieter than usual. I didn’t really know what to check out, so I just went through all the aisles. I thought about butterflies and Brian’s book. He said he’d gotten it from the library. Maybe they had extra copies.
I went back up to the front desk. “Miss Patts, does the library have any books on butterflies?”
“Butterflies?” She sounded surprised. “I think we do. There was a young man your age in here last week asking the same question.”
“Brian.” I smiled.
“They should be in the back. Follow me.:
We ended up in the printed books section. It’s the smallest part of the library. Most people don’t read printed books anymore. See, when you go to the library, you search through a bunch of codes. If you find something you like, you scan it into your computer. Then you get to read it. Stuff always gets deleted after two weeks. Once I was reading a book, and I’d almost finished the last page when the library recalled it. It was sad.
I’d never been back there before. There were tow tall rows of shelves with bunches and bunches of old books on them. They smelled good, like paper and glue. Miss Patts stopped at the end of the aisle and pointed. “There they are. I didn’t know you liked butterflies, Ava.”
“I didn’t either. Thanks, Miss Patts.”
“You’re welcome, honey.” Then she walked away. I sat down on the floor, next to the spot she’d pointed at. There were three books in a neat line. The first two were the same book, some sort of fiction. I flipped one over and read the back. It looked interesting, so I brought it home. The last book was a little one. I pulled it out. The cover said ‘THE BUTTERFLY’ in fancy letters. There was a big green butterfly on the front.
I put the copy of the other book back, checked those two out, and went home.
Wednesday, November 19th, 2053
I got to go back to school today. Yippee. Everyone acted all scared of me, like they thought I was going to punch them in the nose too. I tried to ignore it, but it still hurt. I was used to having people avoid me, but for different reasons. Oh, and I’ve got a big pile of homework to finish.
The worst thing was that Brian wasn’t even there today, so I didn’t have anyone to talk to.
Thursday, November 20th, 2012
I was reading my book at lunch today. Did you know that monarch butterflies used to go down to Mexico for winter? They’d hang out of trees and there’d be so many of them that the tree would disappear. There was a picture of a forest, all orange and black and fairy-winged. It was so pretty. I wish I could’ve seen it.
Grandpa was born in Mexico. Maybe I’ll go ask him if he ever did.
Friday, November 21st, 2053
I asked Grandpa after school and he said no. Then I asked him what the Spanish word for butterfly was. Grandpa laughed and said that since I’d never wanted to learn Spanish before, why start now? I stuck my tongue out at him and he laughed again.
“Avie, I’m just teasing.”
“I know.” I crossed my arms, though, ‘cause I was still pretending to be mad. “So what is it?”
“Mariposa.” It sounded like mary-poh-sah.
“Mariposa?”
“Mariposa.” Grandpa said again, smiling.
“Mariposa. It’s so pretty. Thanks, Grandpa.” I gave him a hug and walked away. I waited until he couldn’t see me to say it again, flapping my arms like I was butterfly.
Mariposa. I like it.
Monday, November 24th, 2053
Brian wasn’t at school today either. I’m starting to get worried. What if he’s sick? What if he never comes back? He’s my only friend and I don’t want to lose him. Maybe I’ll go over to his house tomorrow, just to see if he’s okay.
Tuesday, November 25th, 2053
Nobody was home after school today, so I left a note and programmed by phone to find Brian’s house. The stupid thing was glitching, though, so I walked around in circles for an hour before I found it. Turns out Brian lives in the same neighborhood as me and oh my gosh his house is HUGE. You could fit my house in his garage.
I looked down at my scuffed-up shoes and my jeans with the holes in the knees and suddenly felt very small and unimportant. I almost left. But I didn’t. Brian’s my friend and I wanted to make sure he was okay. I walked up the mile-long driveway and knocked on the door. There was a fancy security scanner on it. A bright red laser shot out from it and scanned me. It tickled. The screen flashed green and a voice came on over the intercom.
“Can I help you, sweetheart?”
“Are you Mrs. Panomato?” I asked nervously. She sounded nice, but you never know.
“I am.”
“I’m Ava. I’m Brian’s classmate. He wasn’t in school last week and I wanted to make sure he was okay and not, you know, hurt or anything…” I just kinda started babbling. “I brought cookies?” I held them up. They were double-chocolate brownie- fudge chunk, my favorite.
They might’ve been burnt.
Hey, don’t judge me. I told you I’m not a good cook.
“Aren’t you adorable,” the voice cooed. That’s another spelling word. I remember it ‘cause it makes me think of pigeons, which are funny birds. The door opened and a woman looked out.
Brian’s mom was short and blond and a little bit round and she didn’t really look anything like him. She looked really nice though. “That’s very sweet of you, Ava.” She said. “Brian’s been sick for the last few days, so that’s why he hasn’t been at school.”
“Oh.” I felt silly. “I guess I’ll just go home, then…”
“No, no, come in. I insist. He’d love to see you.” Mrs. Panomato opened the door wider and flapped her hands around, shooing me inside.
I thought the outside of the house was impressive. The inside looked like a castle.
That’s it. Brian’s dad is secretly the king of some country and he’s a prince. There’s no other reason for their house to be so big. “Do you want some juice?” I’d been so busy staring that I’d forgotten about Brian’s mom.
“Oh, uh sure. Thank you.”
“No problem, sweetie. You can sit down in the kitchen.”
I followed her into the kitchen, which reminded me of the inside of a spaceship. I sat down at the counter. There was a holographic fire flickering in the middle of it. I poked it with my finger and giggled. I love holograms. They’re so much fun.
Mrs. Panomato got a cup out of the cupboard and pressed a button on the fridge. “Grape okay with you?”
“How did you know? Grape’s my favorite flavor.”
“I’m a mind reader.” She winked and I laughed.
“Here you go.” She set the glass down in front of me. “So, you’re Ava. Brian talks about you quite a bit, you know.”
“He does?” I blinked at her, surprised.
“Mm-hmm. I’ll go get him. You just hang tight, okay?”
“’Kay.” I sat there and sipped my juice while Mrs. Panamato went upstairs. Then I heard a shout and Brian came downstairs. He was still wearing his pajamas and he looked super tired.
“Ava? Why are you here?” He sounded confused.
“’Cause I was worried about you, silly.” I rolled my eyes like it was obvious, which it was.
“Oh. Thanks?”
"I made cookies.” I held them out. “Sorry if they’re a little burnt.”
“It’s okay. I actually like burned things.” Brian smiled.
“You’re weird.” I couldn’t help but smile too. “Are you gonna be at school next week?”
“I think so.” Brian took a bite out of a cookie. “I’m feeling a lot better. Hey, these are actually pretty good.”
“Are you saying you didn’t think I was a good cook?” I stuck my tongue out at him and he blushed, waving the cookie around.
“No, no, I didn’t mean-“
“I’m kidding. Geez, you always take everything so seriously.”
“Sor-“
“What did I say about apologizing? If we’re gonna be friends, you can’t keep saying sorry about everything.”
Brian was quiet for so long that I thought I’d hurt his feelings. I felt really bad and started to apologize. I feel like that was a good example of irony. We learned about that in school, ‘cause we were reading this weird story about these two people who were in love and the girl sold her hair and the guy sold his watch and stuff. I liked it, though. It was sweet.
“We’re friends?” Brian asked so softly that I almost didn’t hear him.
“’Course we are. Butterfly partners, remember?”
“Right.” He grinned.
“Okay, well, I better get back before my family starts to worry.”
“Oh, okay. See you at school Monday.”
“See ya. Tell your mom thanks for the juice. And have a good Thanksgiving.”
I waved and left and skipped the entire way home.
