Back to December

Chapter 1

"He is so pretty!"

Jon looked at the little butterfly that landed on Mike's shoulder. It perched itself comfortably as its fluttering wings slowed down to a halt.

Mike just froze there, obviously terrified but unable to move. "Ohmygodtakeitofftakeitoff!"

"Don't move! Don't move!" Jon said as he tried to get a closer look at the dainty insect, ignoring Mike's horrified gaze. It remained still on Mike's slightly shaking shoulder as he drew his finger close to touch its broad yellow wings. "Ain't you pretty, Mr. Flutterby?"

"YOU NAMED IT?!?" Mike shrieked as Jon leaned closer to inspect the beautiful butterfly, still unbothered by his panicked movements. Jon couldn't help chuckling at his friend, clearly amused by the terror on his face.

"Stop it, you're scaring him!" Jon cried. "Did you know butterflies start off as ugly caterpillars? They eat and eat for the rest of their ugly caterpillar lives and then hang on leaves or something, and then after some time, they come out as beautiful, winged creatures just like this one..."

"What am I supposed to do with that information???" Mike screamed hysterically. While he thought the butterfly was beautiful, he did not like the idea of having something with six legs relaxing on his shoulder.

"Oh my god just please take it off me or I swear I--"

As if on cue, the butterfly took off gracefully, briefly flying over their heads before heading to the fields where Jon and Mike had been playing earlier. It was nearing dusk, and they had not noticed the setting sun until the flying butterfly started sailing in its direction.

They both fell silent at the view. They were only eleven, but they knew how to appreciate such a captivating sight when they see one. They momentarily forgot that they were bickering just a few moments ago.

Jon sighed dreamily. "I could stay here."

"Well, not ME!" Mike turned to him, as if waking up from a trance. "I'm so mad at you, Jonathan Stuart!"

Jon looked at him, surprised. Mike had a funny habit of calling him in his full name whenever he was annoyed. "It was only a butterfly! It was harmless! For all I know, it wasn't happy that you kept shrieking in its ears like a banshee."

"I most certainly did not!" Mike protested, face red with embarrassment. "It's still an insect – and I don't think they have ears, and... and you know how I feel about bugs!"

Mike indeed hated bugs, dating back from when he was a younger boy. Ever since he found a squashed spider under his pillow, he had forever cursed any interaction with any kind of insect – or bug, for that matter.

Jon tried to console his friend, but he couldn't stop himself from giggling. "I'm sorry, okay? Next time, I'll be the first person to scare any bug that dares come close to you."

Mike seemed to have been convinced, for after a few moments, his face softened and tilted his head proudly as if he were a king presented with a present. "Alright, alright. Apology accepted."

A young girl around their age came marching to them. Her sour face contrasted with the freshly picked flowers she carried in her frail arms.

"Ughk what were you two sweethearts fighting about this time? I could hear you from a mile away, you know?"

It was Lisa Benson, one of their closest friends. Her family owns a portion of the field in that area, sharing it with Mike's family, the Milfords. Jon's family – his dad – worked for the Milfords as a farmhand. Every day, the kids would play while their parents worked busily. As far as they were concerned, the farm and the fields were their small slice of heaven on earth where they could spend the entire day just playing and enjoy being kids.

"We weren't actually fighting," Jon answered. "We were just uh... settling a misunderstanding."

Mike turned to look at Jon with furrowed eyebrows.

Lisa looked at them with one hand on her hip, bemused.

"Tell me what's goin' on, misters," she said, looking both boys in the eye before turning to Jon. "Don't tell them it's 'nuther one of your creepy-crawly pranks, Jon."

"Well, it's not my fault the butterfly decided to rest on 'im," he answered.

"A BUTTERFLY???" Lisa exclaimed.

Mike groaned. "Oh, it was nothing! I told him it was harmless and—"

"Where is it?" Lisa asked, grabbing Jon excitedly by the collar of his shirt and dropping her flowers. "WHERE IS IT?"

Lisa loved butterflies. She once caught an orange Monarch but was deeply saddened when it died in its jar the following day. Mike had joked that she purposefully killed it and she could not keep one alive, so she wanted to prove him wrong by catching another. Mike did not tell her that she should leave breathing air for it (and advised her to cover the jar tightly so it would not escape).

"Wait hold on, hold on—" Jon said, trying to free his stretched shirt from Lisa's vise-like grip. "It's gone, okay? Little Miss Banshee here scared him away."

At that, Mike stormed off.

"Mike, wait!" Jon and Lisa called out as Mike ran off. He was apparently offended by Jon's calling him a banshee, which was one of the latter's favorite nicknames for him from when he heard him shriek at the sight of a walking stick months ago.

Mike headed off to a quaint house at the far end of the driveway leading into the field. It had a cobblestone walkway, granite steps, and a nice porch. It was decorated with string lights that illuminated the foyer warmly.

He was about to head inside the house when he heard loud noises. It was the sound of two men arguing loudly.

"When the hell did that happen?" Mike heard from outside the door. "How come I didn't hear about this, Peter?"

There was a loud thud that slightly surprised Mike. He thought it was a hand slamming on a table.

"I know you'd never approve of it, Sal. But think about it – once this land has been converted into a commercial area, it's going to be good for all of us. Just think of all the money!"

"You never talked to me about this plan of yours. We can't just sell this place, goddammit – THIS IS MY HOME!"

The words kept ringing in Mike's ears.

WE CAN'T SELL THIS PLACE.

Mike was taken aback. It was the voice of his dad, Sal Milford, talking – more like arguing – with Lisa's dad, Peter Benson. It sounded like Mr. Benson wanted to sell their shared land and might have had agreed to do so without asking his dad, explaining how heated his response was.

Mike heard frantic footsteps walking around inside. He pressed one ear against the door and kept listening. He knew he should not eavesdrop – like what Mr. Milford always told him – but he knew he needed to hear everything, or it would keep him up all night.

"Listen to me, Sal. They are giving us time to still make money off this land. Colliers is not taking it for the next ten years or so. That's on paper," Mr. Benson assured his dad.

"That does not make any difference at all, Peter! In ten years, this place will be gone, and the last piece of the legacy my family has left to me will be fed to those – those wolves!"

"Legacy could not feed you and your family, Sal. You're letting your pride get in the way."

"No, Peter. You are letting your GREED get in the way! YOU wanted this money and YOU wanted to have it all to yourself!"

Mike removed his plastered ear from the door when he heard approaching footsteps. He quickly hid behind some bushes by the porch.

"This isn't over yet, Sal. I know you'll accept this offer," he heard Mr. Benson say as he walked out of the house and onto the walkway, and when he was already out of Mr. Milford's earshot, he added...

"Whether you like it or not."