Lisa Heathfield - Paper Butterflies

My stomach feels heavy. I had only kept the fish because I’d wanted to bury it. It hadn’t felt right to throw it in the bin. Not when it’s died for me.

Miss Hawthorne doesn’t have to look for long. She picks out the paper napkin with the soft fish inside.

‘Why?’ she asks me. Her voice is gentle. She’s not angry.

‘It wasn’t me,’ I tell her. But she just shakes her head.

‘A lot of the children saw you do it. They’re very upset.’

‘It wasn’t me,’ I whisper.

‘Lying will only make it worse.’ There’s such disappointment in her voice that it almost makes me cry.

‘I’m not lying,’ I say, but I can tell by her eyes that she doesn’t believe me.

‘I’ve got no choice. I’ve got to take you to Mr Cleadon.’

I nod at her. It’s easier this way.

I feel so alone, even though Miss Hawthorne walks beside me. I thought I could trust her. I thought one day I’d even tell her about Kathleen and she’d save me. But now I know she never will.

I look outside the windows as we walk. The clouds look like a pixie, but it’s hard to see, because soon we’re gone.

‘Close your eyes,’ Kathleen says. Megan and I have barely walked through the door when she’s fussing around us, taking our bags and coats and hanging them up.

She stands behind me and covers my eyes with her hands.

‘Walk forward,’ she says, so I shuffle in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Ta-da!’ She takes her hands away.

The table is covered in birthday food. There’s jelly and sandwiches and cookies. And, in the middle, an enormous, round chocolate cake, dotted with sweets.

Megan seems confused as she looks at Kathleen.

‘It’s her birthday, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Have a look at the cake. I made it myself,’ she smiles.

I step towards it. There’s a new tablecloth, and balloons tied to the chairs.

‘What do you say?’ Kathleen says.

‘Thank you,’ I reply.

‘Come on, let’s light these and take a photo.’

She holds a match to all ten candles. It’s my cake and it’s beautiful.

‘Blow them out and look at me and smile.’

I puff out my cheeks and my smile is real as I look at the candles and blow out the flames into little streaks of smoke.

‘Let’s tuck in, then.’

We all sit down.

‘There’s fizzy juice too.’ She smiles, pointing to my cup.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘Let’s start with the cake.’ She cuts a big slice and tips it on to the plate, then passes it to me. ‘Don’t wait for us.’

I hesitate with my fork, but it’s too tempting. Chocolate cream oozes out between the sponge. The taste makes the world feel better.

‘It’s a good one,’ Kathleen laughs as she eats a mouthful. And it is. Mouthful after mouthful is delicious, until my plate is empty.

Kathleen puts another slice on my plate. I look up at her and she nods at me. Maybe this is the day she changes. Maybe she’ll put her arms round me and say she really does love me and she’s sorry. I smile back. A little bit of the grit in my heart feels like it’s floating away.

I eat my cake, the chocolate filling my mouth. Megan stares at me, but I don’t care. Kathleen can love me too.

I run my fingers along the crumbs on my plate, smudging dropped bits of chocolate cream.

‘More?’ Kathleen asks.

I laugh slightly. ‘I need to leave space for a sandwich.’

‘But the cake isn’t finished.’ Just like that, the look is back. Her eyes burn into me.

She puts another slice on my plate. I look down at it. If I eat it, I’ll feel too sick to remember the special taste.

‘Eat it,’ she says. Megan looks at me. She has a glimmer of panic in her eyes.

I pick up the fork and push it into the cake. Slowly, I spoon every last bit into my mouth, until I’m sure I’ll be sick.

‘Have a drink,’ Kathleen says. I want liquid, but it’s too sweet.

‘Eat.’ There’s more chocolate cake on the plate in front of me.

‘I can’t,’ I whisper.

‘Eat,’ she says.

‘I’ll be sick.’

She’s beside me so quick that I jump back.

‘If you vomit, you’ll eat that too.’

I pick up the fork and force the cake into my mouth. I gag slightly on the sponge and I have to work hard to make it go down. My tummy is cramping – it doesn’t want it.

‘She’s disgusting, isn’t she?’ Kathleen says to Megan.

‘Yes,’ Megan agrees.

I don’t want to cry, but I can’t stop myself. I can feel the tears rolling uselessly down my cheeks.

I want to see my bike. I want my dad to come home and take me away from here.

The sweet smell sweeps through my nose. I gag again and am almost sick. The salt from my crying is in my mouth too.

‘More,’ I hear her say. My fork scrapes the plate and goes past my lips, again and again and again, until I have to stand up and run for the bathroom.

I won’t be sick, I can’t be sick. I lock the door before she can get to me and I curl up on the floor. Everything hurts. My head feels like it will crack open. My stomach is filled with a thousand burning bricks. My throat is sandpapered raw.

I lie on the floor and I cry and I cry.

I want my mom. I want her to come out of the water and come back to us. And my dad will love me enough and Kathleen would never exist.

There’s a tap at the door, so gentle.

‘June?’ It’s Kathleen’s voice trickling underneath it. ‘Happy birthday.’

My dad is keeping his promise. He has to get his bike from the back of the garage, but I don’t mind waiting. I’d wait all day if it means I can get on my bike.

Kathleen stands in the front doorway. She’s leaning on the frame, her arms crossed in front of her, a big smile on her face.

‘Do you need help, Brad?’ she calls out. He doesn’t reply. There’s clattering coming from the garage and I doubt he can hear her. She shrugs. ‘I guess not.’ She smiles at me.

But there’s something, just at the back of her eyes, that I can see. I look away. Out here, I’m safe. Just by being here, my dad protects me.

He appears from the garage. ‘Sorry, pumpkin. Took me ages to find the pump.’

‘That’s fine,’ I say. His front wheel looks a bit wonky.

‘Are you sure you’re all right on that?’ Kathleen asks.

‘It’s straight out of the showroom, this beauty,’ my dad says, slapping the frayed seat and laughing loud enough for the birds to hear. ‘Ready, June?’

‘Yup.’ I begin to put my foot on the pedal, when I see her out of the corner of my eye, coming closer.

‘No going too fast,’ Kathleen says. She hugs me and kisses the top of my head. ‘Look after each other.’

‘We will,’ my dad calls as he wobbles off down the road. I go after him quickly and I don’t look back.

My bicycle makes me free. The wind pushes against my cheeks and arms. My legs pedal round and round and round and I’m so happy I could fly.

‘You’re all mine,’ I whisper to my bike. The whirr of its wheels calls back to me. It loves me too.

The road disappears beneath my feet, taking me further away from her. I want to call to the clouds, shout out to the sky.

I watch my dad not far ahead. He’s hunched over, looking forward. He’s my dad and he gave me this bike and I love him love him love him.

His T-shirt moves slightly in the wind.

Today, I’ll tell him. Today, I’ll tell him everything.

He turns off to the left, towards the towpath. My heart squeezes cold and I want to stop.

‘Not this way,’ I say, but I’m not loud enough for him to hear.

It’s bumpy under our wheels. I can see the river in the distance, a thick line of black. I never admit to him how much I don’t like coming here.