Page 34 of Z For Butterfly Man
I blink at my tray for a few seconds. “Hey.”
“Just checking on you after... You headed home alright?”
Why wouldn’t I? He drove me to the house himself. Why does he care in the first place? I just nod.
He makes more small talk. I don’t like it. Shane gets weird when Mason’s name comes up. I don’t know what the deal is with the two of them, but I don’t want to be a part of it.
He should go. How can I tell him that without being rude? Maybe I should take my tray and sit somewhere else. Everybody is staring at us. I know they’re whispering. They must wonder why two biker boys who can have any girl they want are suddenly interested in this ugly nobody. They must think I do something for the hot boys, something wrong. They must think I’m a whore like Mother says. Shane is right. I shouldn’t talk to or be with Mason alone.
“Happy birthday, by the way.” He smiles.
“How did you know that? Shane told you?”
“Yeah. He said you were out celebrating at the beach and—”
“Why…why are you here, talking to me when you never do, today of all days?” When Shane isn’t in town.
He swallows, staring at me, hesitation twisting his lips. “Listen, um, you ever had a boyfriend?”
“What? No. Why? Are you allowed to ask me that?”
“I mean, do you know what it means when a guy… You ever—” He runs a hand through his hair. “Shit. I don’t know how to say this.”
“Say what?”
He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Look, Reagan, you’re a good kid. You’re smart. And I hear things are rough at home, and Shane’s been helping you out, which is cool, but—”
My stomach twists with anxiety. “But what? Mason, are you hitting on me?”
“What? No!” He looks horrified. “Jesus, no. You’re like a—”
“A sister to you,” I finish for him, my voice flat. “Just like I am to Shane.” That’s all I’ll ever be, so fuck this life. Who gives a fuck? Who cares about boyfriends and love and all that shit when your biggest wish is to get through the day in one piece without a bleeding wound, a nasty scar, a broken bone or a sewn-up vagina?
He stares at me for a long moment. “Yeah. Exactly. That’s why I’m talking to you right now.”
“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Sometimes guys... Sometimes they want things. Things that aren’t appropriate.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Eww. What makes you think you can talk to me like that? What is this all about?”
“It’s about Shane.” He glances around, then leans in even closer. “Brothers and sisters don’t get hot for each other, Reagan.”
My blood runs cold. “What?”
“Last night. In the car. That wasn’t keys in Shane’s pocket, Reagan. Jesus Christ, you really that naive? Don’t you study that shit in Bio class? Look it up in one of your books, alright. How a guy’s body reacts when…you know.”
The cafeteria noise fades to a dull roar in my ears. My jaw hangs low as I stuff my books and journal into my backpack.“Shane would never—” I can’t even finish the sentence. My hands are trembling. “You’re disgusting for even suggesting—”
“I’m trying to help you.” Mason’s voice is urgent now. “You’re only fourteen. What I saw last night, the way he was holding you, the way he looks at you—”
“What do you think you saw?” I stand up so fast my chair screeches against the floor. Everyone is looking our way now. I lower my voice. “Because whatever it was, you’re wrong.”
“Reagan, please—”
“I’m not feeling well.” I grab my backpack, leaving my tray on the table. “I must be coming down with something from yesterday’s swim. I’m going home.”
“Wait,” Mason stands, too. “Let me give you a ride.”
