Sisters: Butterflies at Graduation [book two]

Chapter Thirteen (NaNoWriMo)

Dedicated to @chocolateandbooks because she's doing NaNoWriMo this month and she's so talented as a poet.

 

Chapter Thirteen

Thanksgiving rolls around and the pumpkins are replaced with turkeys and leftover candy is replaced with cranberry sauce.

Grandma and Granddad stay for a few days. Their presence brings presents and the annual offhand comments of, "my, you've grown so much since the last time I saw you!" It also brings the burning questions about college and the future, both of which Michele and I skim over with hasty, vague replies. Michele spouts her 'plans' of going back to college and handing her CVs to local shops in hopes of a job but I know they're empty promises. Michele doesn't know what to do, and neither do I.

The Saturdays spent at All Things Sweet and the continuous pile up of schoolwork for the ever-looming SATs in early December leave Zac and I unable to see each other. While predicted, it's almost a breath of fresh air. His hands are all over me whenever we're alone; his disappointment is slowly turning into frustration, that much is clear. The rapture between Mom and Michele is an open wound, leaving the overload of homework to act as my excuse stay holed up in my bedroom while my family silent brush passed one another.

The morning of November thirtieth, I'm shaken awake by Michele. For a moment, I think it's the middle of the night again and she's here to spew another dream of her past life to me that can't possibly wait until the morning. But then a wrapped present with a pink fastened bow is thrust in my face and it clicks that it's my birthday.

I'm eighteen today.

I sit up and tear open the wrapping paper. It's something jewellery, and expensive. I open the lid of the satin box and stare in awe at the silver Pandora chain tucked into the velvet cushioning. Held captive in the chain, a single butterfly sits with its wings outspread.

"Oh my goodness," I say, and I look up. "Thank you, Michele. Thank you!"

The present still in my hands, I hug my sister. "Let's put it on," Michele says. She unhinges the chain and I twist my back away from her. I collect my hair at the front of my shoulders.

"Perfect," Michele says, and my eyes drop to admire the butterfly.

"It is," I agree. "Thank you, Mich. But how did you pay for it?"

Michele's eyes crawl up the walls and land on the ceiling. "I may have asked for a loan from Mom and Dad..."

I raise my eyebrows.

"I'm going to pay them back!" she says, then pauses. "Eventually."

I snort and shift my body off the side of the bed. I tuck my toes into my slippers and stand up.

"What did you ask from Mom and Dad?" Michele says.

"I just asked for some money," I say. "There wasn't anything I particularly wanted."

"You're so boring," Michele says. "There a thousand things I want right now."

Sometimes, and only sometimes, the old Michele seeps through her words. Instances like now catch me off guard and I pause before grabbing my hoodie from the back of my desk chair and sliding it over my shoulders.

The mornings have grown cold since the onset of autumn. The beginnings of winter are painting the view out of bedroom window into something permanently cloudy and grey. The frost is beginning to bite the grass and the sun hangs low in the sky. I remember, exactly a year ago today, my parents decided to remind me that my year as a home-schooled student was drawing to a close and, sooner or later, I was going to have to start thinking about going back.