181 Days of Madeline Jesty

Chapter 12: Butterflies

The moment I saw Steph the next day, I ran toward her and clung to her arm. Her concerned, warm smile somehow made the thing with Michael bearable, as I knew she would be against it.

"Is that why you told me those stuff yesterday?" I asked.

She nodded and sighed. "Imagine how shocked I was when Granduncle Elijah casually told me that you will soon be my aunt. For god's sake, Maddie! You look younger than me to be my aunt!"

"And what did you tell that bastard?" I asked, smiling widely knowing my closest friend was on my side.

"If I could only tell him to fuck off, I already did. I just said you weren't the kind of girl who'd agree to that. Especially to Michael? No way, and I won't let it! He's a relative, but he's a douchebag. You deserve better—fucking hot, fucking rich, fucking handsome, fucking man fucking forever."

I laughed at her reply, but the word forever kind of sting.

"So I told him I'll warn you, but he then told me not to meddle in their affairs or they'll make sure I'll transfer to another school."

"They can't. The school year has already started."

"Believe me, they can. One of his connections owns an academy. But I have spent my whole life in this school. I couldn't just throw that away. I'm sorry."

I rubbed her arm to calm her. Her frustration was already obvious from the way she spoke. "I understand, Steph. Thank you for somehow warning me yesterday. And I'm sorry. I know they're your relatives—"

"I am not required to love them just because we're relatives, Maddie. If I find out they're forcing things on you, I will be on your side. Ugh! I'm so tired of that family!"

"I didn't know your granduncle and Mom were business partners though. I thought our families are in close ties but not generally business partners."

We paused in our tracks, Steph slowly facing me. "It was your mom who approached Granduncle and opened up about your marriage with Michael."

"What? Why would she do that?"

"I don't know, Maddie. I was also confused—"

But Steph wasn't able to finish her sentence because the bell rang. To avoid being late for the morning assembly, we had to run as fast as could. However, I cared less about being late. The only thing running on my mind was the reason Mom thought it was a good idea to make me marry Michael.

***

Mickey left immediately after class that Friday, so I wasn't able to speak with her. Steph teased me all day after she noticed and counted the number of times I glanced at Mickey and Jane talking. Of course I denied her assumption that I was crushing on Mickey, and luckily, when my tongue slipped and mentioned that what Mickey and I had was something transactional, Steph was busy with something and didn't hear what I said.

Now came Saturday, and the moment I woke up, the realization that Mickey didn't even know my number made me slap my forehead. I doubted she would remember where I lived. Ugh! So much for Can I wait for Saturday.

I was pulling out a notebook out of my dresser when I saw my reflection on the mirror. "One hundred seventy-six," I whispered and then sighed. "Why don't you make it zero and just tell me how I'll die?"

Angered and helpless about my fate, I reached for my blanket and covered the mirror on my dresser before getting a notebook and a pen. I lay on the bed and brainstormed of things I wanted to do. Travelling was an instant idea, but after that argument with Mom, I was no longer expecting she'd allow me. Besides, I was a minor who needed a chaperone for flights, but every adult I knew was loyal to Mom.

"I could travel locally," I debated and wrote a few rural areas I'd like to go to. Thinking of Mickey, however, I wasn't sure if she was ready to ditch classes to come along with me. Plus, if I would go alone, how was I sure I'd be safe for the rest of my days? All those video tapes filled with documentaries of serial killers suddenly came into mind, which made me imagine a drastic fate under the hands of a psychopath. After all, all I knew was when, not how. Now I regretted being bored last summer to watch those video tapes; how could a high school girl be so intrigued with crime documentaries?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I cussed loudly while striking the notebook on my forehead. "And yet you went along with Mickey that night, huh? Just how stupid you are?" Pausing for a second and changing positions, I defended myself, "Well, to be fair, I was too engrossed with the magical experience that I acted on impulse."

I got my calendar and counted the weekends I had. For sure, we'd have extracurricular activities on some of these weekends, and counting the days Mickey might not be available, I'd have more little time.

Planning for my remaining days was just as frustrating as accepting I had a few days to live.

I was contemplating on what to do when I heard Suzie knocking and shouting, "Maddie! Telephone call!"

"Got it," I answered and swiftly opened my door. Once I got the wireless phone from Suzie's hands, she went downstairs. "Hey, Steph—"

"Your Majesty."

"M-Mickey?" Confused but pleased, I returned to my bed. "How did you get my number?"

"Will it creep you out if I tell you I memorized your contact details?"

"I don't remember telling you—"

"When we were having that pair activity, I saw the info on your ID."

I realized she must have noticed my details when my ID was facing down. Maybe that was the reason she was confident to tell me we could meet on a weekend without even talking to me yesterday.

"S-so . . . are you going to go here? I can give you directions. Tell your driver to—"

"W-well, our . . . uhm . . . driver's sick so . . . I need to commute."

"Oh. Hmm, where will you be coming from? If you're near the school, just tell the cab to drop you at Jacobs's Estate."

"Got it."

As soon as Mickey dropped the call, I hurriedly got my toiletries and took the quickest shower I had ever done. Good thing I was finished when Suzie called for me, telling me I had a visitor. But just as I was about to exit my room, Suzie showed up, her arms crossed and a brow raised.

"Be honest with me, sweetie. She was your visitor the other day too, wasn't she?"

"Are you asking about Mickey?" I asked and played dumb. "Yeah, we're going to continue our project today."

"Really, huh? You smell like you're trying to impress."

I rolled my eyes. "What do you even mean, Suzie? This is what I smell every day."

"I know you, Maddie. You don't put perfume on a normal day. Tell me, was she the one who broke your heart?"

Fuck, I almost forgot that I told Suzie about a girl I met on a bar breaking my heart. She probably already guessed that Mickey and I did not have a relationship same as my relationship with Steph, but all I had to do was to keep on denying her assumption.

"No, okay? That one was someone else . Mickey's a classmate."

"And a classmate would bring you a flower?"

That moment, I wished Suzie had a camera to capture my genuine surprise . . . and happiness. But even though she wasn't able to, she snapped and exclaimed, "Butterflies! Ha! I knew it!" as if she knew better than myself.

I was young when I had heard the idiom "butterflies in one's stomach" and learned that it was also used to describe the fluttery sensation when meeting a crush or falling in love. When I questioned why butterflies among species, our teacher laughed and countered that it would be weird if it were another animal. But if it were me, I'd choose a bigger species because that was what love should feel like—huge, powerful, overwhelming.

What I did not take account, however, was the metaphor behind the butterflies—transformation. And that was exactly what I thought I was presently feeling as I rushed downstairs to see my treasured vassal.