Under the Butterfly Tree

Chapter 2 - Dos Oruguitas

I found Bruno lying on his belly under the Butterfly Tree. At this time, I was eleven years old. It was the beginning of butterfly season, and the tree fluttered with color. The insects appeared in endless varieties -- red ones and orange ones with dark spots, black ones with shocks of bright blue or green, brown ones with delicate purple lines, vibrant blue ones with long tails, all-black ones with fancy wings, yellow ones with black stripes and orange splotches.

Bruno greeted me, glumly, and did not look up. I joined him in the grass to see what he was doing. He had a fat, fuzzy green caterpillar crawling across the back of one hand. With one finger of the other hand, he gently stroked the bug.

"Do you want to come with me to the festival?" I asked, by which I meant the Butterfly Festival, which would begin in the plaza that night.

He made a non-committal sound in reply, still staring at the caterpillar.

After a moment, I tried again. "Your hair's getting long." It was true. His black hair formed loose curls falling everywhere, including in front of his eyes.

"I like it long," he mumbled flatly. "But Mamá says it's unruly. She's gonna make me cut it soon."

Well, it couldn't be avoided. I'd have to ask directly. "Do you feel okay? You seem unhappy."

"Mamá's not happy. I had a vision that someone was going to find a path leading out of the Encanto."

"Why would that make her unhappy?"

"Because if there's a way out, there's probably a way in. Mamá says they're still out there, the kind of people who, who attacked us ... that night." He started to make a fist, haltingly, a couple times before going back to stroking the caterpillar. "She was pretty angry. But ... I just foresaw it. I'm not making it happen."

"She couldn't have been mad at you."

"It sure felt like it."

I adjusted my position so that I was also on my belly, right alongside Bruno. "Can I pet the caterpillar?"

He slid his hand closer to me so that I could reach it. "I wonder why people hate them," he said.

"Caterpillars?"

He nodded.

"Well, they eat crops."

"They're just niños. They've gotta eat." That was Bruno all over. Always kind to the least loved creatures. "And then they turn into butterflies. Everybody loves butterflies. My house is full of butterflies. We're having a whole festival for butterflies. And butterflies help the crops, Pepa said so." She would know. With her weather-based Gift, Pepa had learned a great deal about farming.

"Well, maybe it's because butterflies are prettier than caterpillars."

"I guess you've got to survive being an ugly caterpillar," he mumbled. His voice sounded far away and half-asleep. "Then seal yourself up in a dark little chrysalis for a while, not knowing if you're ever going to come out. And then, and then maybe you get to be a butterfly."

I peered at him. He almost sounded like he used to when a vision was coming on. But his eyes looked normal. Besides, he'd told me that making rules for his Gift had worked. He'd created a whole ritual with a circle of sand and a small fire and aromatic herbs. Now, spontaneous visions were very rare, happening only when he was at his most emotional. I supposed it was possible he was remembering a vision he'd already had. Or perhaps he was simply a child philosopher. He was certainly the most thoughtful kid my age.

The caterpillar we'd been petting wandered off into the grass. Bruno didn't seem to notice.

"Do you think you'd feel better if you came with me tonight?"

He sighed and finally looked at me. "I'm sorry. I just don't feel like it. But I hope you have fun."

"I'm not going by myself. It's way too many people." I didn't like crowds any more than Bruno did, which was not at all. Despite that, I wanted to go for everything else.

"Aren't your parents going?"

"That's no fun." I bumped my shoulder against his. "I'll stay here and be a caterpillar with you."

"Who says I'm a caterpillar?"

"Look at you, on your belly in the dirt."

"Look at you, doing the same thing."

"Like I said. We'll be two caterpillars together."

He almost smiled. He shifted his weight and his fingers touched mine. He didn't move, which made me wonder if it might not have been an accident. So I didn't move, either. Very quietly, he said, "Maybe we'll be two butterflies together, too."

We spent hours gazing up at the tree and its flittering inhabitants -- our own personal butterfly festival. Sometimes we talked. Mostly we just enjoyed each other's company in comfortable silence. Sometimes our hands happened to touch. Neither of us flinched.

At some point, a few of Bruno's rats turned up. He had let me name one of them -- Gordita. I petted her as she sat in my lap, and we fed them crumbs of the arepa Bruno had in his pockets. He always seemed to have something like that on hand.

"Watch this." He held up a crumb and locked eyes with the rat. "Remember what we practiced? Roll, Gordita."

The portly little brown rat turned a somersault.

"What? How did you do that?"

Beaming, Bruno rewarded her with the crumb and some petting. "They're really smart," he explained proudly. "And they'll do anything for food."

I had something I'd been keeping in my bag. I had been shy, for some reason, to show it to him -- or anyone, really -- but I knew this was the time to bring it out.

"Here." I deposited it in front of Bruno.

He picked it up. "What is it?"

My heart sank. "Well, it's supposed to be a rat, but --"

"No, I know that. I meant, what's it made of?" He ran his finger along the slightly slick surface.

"Oh, it's soap. Papá started teaching me to carve, but Mamá won't let me use the sharp knives yet, so instead of wood I just carve soap."

"Oh, neat. How many carvings have you made?"

"One."

He inspected the carving closely, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. "It's good. Your very first carving, and you made a rat. I didn't know you liked them that much."

"Well ... that's because --"

He pointed to the little crown of flowers I'd painted on the soap rat's head. "Oh, I like these! You made six of them!" He'd never been able to explain to me what was so special about six, only that it was indeed special. As five plus one, it was extra special. I really didn't understand that, either, but since I thought he might like it, I had made one of the flowers just a little bigger than the others.

"That's because it's --"

"Here, I'll let you put it away so I don't mess it up. Thank you for showing it to me."

"It's for you."

He blinked at me. "To keep?"

"Yes! It's a present."

"But ... but it's your very first carving."

"And I made it a rat because I wanted to give it to you."

Bruno looked close to tears, cradling my little carving, stroking his thumb along the smoothest part of it, and gazing at the lopsided, misshapen thing as though it were a priceless work of art.

"Thank you," he murmured. "I love it." He carefully tucked it away beneath his ruana, and fell quiet for a while.