The Key to Oz

Chapter 9: Butterfly don't fly away

"You don't seriously believe this, do you?" Oz asked.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"A random letter shows up, supposedly from Dad, saying we're heirs to a long lost fortune, and you just believe it?" She frowned at him.

"Yeah, I do." He said folding his hands into his pockets.

Oz crossed her arms. "Then you realize that means Dad's dead, right?"

"Maybe not,"

She scoffed, putting the key into her jean pocket. "Your optimism makes me want to puke." Turning, she headed to the back door with frustrated stomps, but before she could open it, James blocked her path, placing a hand on the door. "Lozzie, this is the answer. This is what will save us."

"No," she shot back. "We need to focus on reality not some wild treasure hunt." She pushed the door open and stepped outside, joining the others on the dock where they retreated after the argument with Larry had gotten heated.

James sighed and with a roll of his eyes he followed her. How could she just shrug this off so easily? He couldn't wrap his head around it, but for now, he decided to let it go.

"Is the war over?" Eric asked, leaning against a wooden post on the dock.

"Not even close. He raised our rent," James muttered.

"Damn. What are you gonna do?" Grayson asked, casting his fishing line into the water.

"Face reality, I guess," James replied shooting a glance at Lozzie, who stood nearby, deep in thought.

"Great, whatever that means," Grayson said with a shrug. "You wanna help us fish, Oz?"

She turned her head to Grayson coming out her trance. "Actually I gotta head out for a bit." she said raising up from the tree she had been leaning on before she started walking back to the house.

"Where?" James asked but she ignored him.

"What? Who's gonna cook the fish?" Grayson called after her.

"You literally cook fish for a living," Lozzie laughed, shaking her head. "I'll be back in an hour."

With a quick jog, she headed into the house to change. She knew there was so many other things that needed her current attention but she had to find Pyke. Either to yell at him or thank him, she hadn't quite decided yet. After getting dressed, she hopped on her bike and rode the mile into town. It was Saturday, and she knew exactly where he'd be—at the park, finishing his morning jog. She knew his schedule pretty well, not much had changed within the year, except her not being apart of it anymore.

She didn't have to look long before she spotted him by a tree, water bottle in hand, sweat glistening on his bare chest. Oz fought to keep her cool as she walked over, swallowing a hard gulp.

She didn't waste anytime before asking, "What do you want for the money, Pyke?" She said grabbing his attention. He straightened, his eyes brightening as she drew nearer.

He paused, took a sip, and wiped his forehead. "Hello, Butterfly," he said with a smirk.

"Butterfly?" she echoed, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah. Something that enchants you with its beauty before fluttering away."

She inhales a deep breath blinking slowly "Are you going to answer my question?"

"Maybe. What was it again?"

"The money in my mailbox, Pyke. What do you want for it?"

"I didn't leave any money in your mailbox."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, really? Then who did?"

"Must've been one of your other admirers."

Her gaze hardened. "Stop playing games, Pyke. I don't like being in anyone's debt. What do you want?"

He paused, meeting her eyes with an intensity that made her uneasy. "What I want? You wont give me."

She crossed her arms. "And what's that?"

"You."

Her heart stumbled in her chest, but her face remained steely. "You can't buy me, Pyke."

"I'm not trying to. You asked what I wanted, and I told you."

"For the money."

"That money's nothing to me. I don't want anything for it."

"I don't take handouts, you should know better." She turned to leave. "I'll pay you back when I can."

"A date," he called after her.

She stopped in her tracks, turning back slowly. "What?" She asked even thought she heard him perfectly clear.

"A date. That's how you can repay me."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're trying to buy me again. I'm not for sale, Pyke."

He didn't give her the money expecting a favor in return—he gave it to her because he still loved her, because he wanted to protect her. And that made her hate it even more.

"Let me give you a ride home," he offered, as she turned toward her bike.

"Sorry, I've got places to flutter," she said, pedaling off, wobbling slightly as she sped down the road. Her heart thumped fast and emotion swelled in her throat, she hated how her body still reacted to him. She would give anything to despise him, to hate his guts, it would make everything so much easier.

A few moments later his black Ford truck crept up slowly beside her. She didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Go away, Pyke!" she shouted over the rumble of the truck.

"How about surf lessons?" he called out.

"What?" she said, glancing between him and the dirt road ahead.

"You teach me how to surf, and we'll call it even."

She hit the brakes, skidding to a stop, glancing over at him confused as he parked the truck, got out and strolled over to the front of her bike, towering over her with his long shadow cast on the ground.

"You hate surfing," she said. "You said it's for lazy hippies with no ambitions."

"Maybe you can change my mind. I've been looking for a new hobby... since my last one fluttered away." He smiled.

She scoffed at his insinuation that she had just been a hobby to him. "How long would I have to do it?"

"Every day, for a month."

"A month?" She let out a bitter laugh. "Not a chance." She moved to take off again, but he stopped her by grabbing the handlebars. She looked up at him through her eyelashes and sighed.

"Fine, every other day." He said.

She knew this was all just a ploy for him to get closer to her, but the guilt of taking his money gnawed at her too much for her to decline. At least this way, she could ease her conscience about it. Though she'd never admit it, the truth buried deep inside was that part of her wanted to be close to him too, and this was an excuse for the both of them.

She glared at him, then sighed. "Fine. But every time you try and make a move on me, I'm charging you a hundred bucks. Got it?"

He grinned, almost too eagerly. "Deal."

Shaking her head, she pedaled past him, leaving him standing there with a lingering smile, watching her disappear down the road, hope flickering in his eyes.