It All Started With The Butterflies

Chapter 9

Chapter 9: The Project

"I need your brother's help," I told Chrissie.

"What did Caspian want with you yesterday?" Chrissie asked in reply to my question. I wasn't sure if she hadn't heard my question or if she chose to deliberately ignore it.

"I need your brother's help," I repeated, hoping to get Caspian out of her head.

"For what?" she asked, pursing her glossed, pink lips. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and secured in numerous places with bobby pins. Her outfit choice for today was a pink, off-shoulder blouse paired with a light blue denim skirt that just about reached her knees.

"Hacking," I replied.

"Right." Chrissie slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"It's important," I told her.

Chrissie waited for a better explanation.

"I need to find my brother's phone," I clarified.

Chrissie was way too polite to ask why I was looking for my dead brother's phone.

"I need to find out why he committed suicide," I lied, keeping my face emotionless.

"Ok," Chrissie said, giving me her brother's number. My parents and the Sheriff were the only other people who knew about the suicide letter. They all thought it was best to keep it that way, because they didn't want Janet to feel bad. Anyway, I was grateful that now I was able to use Chrissie's obliviousness to my advantage.

I thanked her and together we went to our next class, which was English. Everyone found English easy, everyone but me that is. I usually sat through the English period trying to figure out the difference between thee and thy. The person who wrote a dummies handbook on how to read Shakespeare would be my hero. My mind worked around numbers and facts, not fancy words that no one knows the meaning of.

Ms. Embly prattled on about a project and I knew I should be paying attention, but my mind was out of control. Ms. Embly was a petite woman with a round face. Her eyebrows were drawn on, making it difficult to read her facial expressions half of the time. She could be shouting at someone, while still managing to look as calm as a cucumber. Her hair curled at the ends into what I assumed was overgrown bowl cuts. Her voice was monotonous and soft, which is probably why I felt sleepy after her classes.

I gave up on trying to wrap my brain around English and concentrated on my brother's murder. Of course my mind had no trouble concentrating on this as I sifted through the facts.

I picked up a ballpoint pen and pretended to take notes on whatever Ms. Embly was saying. I started writing all the information I had so far on sticky notes. As I tried to recall everything I found myself wishing I had started doing this last night, when all of Caspian's information was fresh in my mind.

1. Victoria Herim- spoke to Asher.

2. Bee tattoo- Asher might be a Stinger.

3. Asher wanted to go to NYC, I think.

4. Principal Hugh's suicide.

I scratched out number four. What were the chances that Principal Hugh's suicide was linked to Asher's suicide? But if Asher hadn't committed suicide, maybe Hugh hadn't either. It could be that both these deaths were murders perfectly disguised as suicides.

"Hey, partner."

I quickly stuffed the sticky notes in my book and slammed it shut. Caspian was grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi," I said, wondering why Ms. Embly had fallen quiet and why the classroom was abuzz with chatter.

Caspian pulled up the chair next to me. It squeaked loudly, before he angled it towards my desk. I hadn't even noticed that Chrissie had moved.

Awkward silence.

"Why are you here?" I asked, trying not to sound rude.

"The project," Caspian stated as he raised his eyebrow.

"I was going to go with Chrissie," I told him. My eyes searched for Chrissie and located her talking to Beatrix Finnigan, the social outcast who bit her braids and often got hair stuck in her braces.

"You haven't been listening, have you?" Caspian reached for my notebook, I protectively put one hand on it.

He didn't wait for me to reply. "Lucky for you, I have." He pulled out his notebook and opened it up to a blank page. He grabbed a pen out of my pencil bag, and before I could grab it he began to spin it around between two of his fingers. "We've been put into groups." He pointed to me and then to himself.

I didn't mind being paired up with Caspian, now that my vow to not speak to him had been broken; but his perfectness would be a distraction. I kept thinking about the way he had held me against his chest at the beach. The way his breath felt on my cheeks, and the way I wanted nothing more than to experience that bliss again.

"We have to make a presentation on what different animals symbolise in literature, or something along those lines." Caspian finished talking and handed me a piece of gum.

Did my breath smell bad? I cupped one hand around my mound and exhaled into it. Smelt fine to me. Maybe he was just trying to be nice. He blew a big pink bubble that popped dangerously close to my face. I better be careful, or tonight I could be picking bubble gum out of my hair.

I quietly chewed my bubble gum. I hoped Caspian was good at English, or else we were so screwed.

The bell rang, I swept everything off my desk and into my bag, before jiggling the zipper shut.

"The library, after school?" Caspian asked, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand. I honestly didn't know he was so studious. I shook my head. "Busy."

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