Because I have a tendency to start stories and then stop when I "lose the mood", I've decided to make my stories short, but with potential to be expanded.
That's why I added the "Andy" part in, because I might decide to turn Butterfly Wings into a series of short stories, each focussing on a particular character.
That's also why I've decided to put this in "Other Fiction", as related short stories might not fit into the same category as this if it were put in any other category, and I want to keep them together.
Also, I've decided to make the language feel "natural", so some of it is quite strong. I'll try not to go over the top, though.
Enjoy.
---
Ring, ring...
Andy Pratchett groaned, and reluctantly turned his head towards the clock.
Ring, ring...
It was eleven o'clock, Saturday morning.
Ring, ring...
"Ugh...Isn't someone going to get that?"
Ring, ring...
"Bloody hell..."
Ring, ring...
Andy pushed himself out of bed, wiping his nose, scratching his arse, the usual sub-conscious ritual. He put on the same clothes he had worn the the past two days, and ran downstairs to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hey Andy," a familiar voice answered, "listen, you know the party tomorrow?"
"Vince...it's eleven in the fucking morning!"
"I woke you up?"
"Yes you frickin' woke me up!"
Vincent Rankin laughed.
"You shouldn't sleep until so late, anyway. And you should go to bed earlier. It's not healthy. Anyway, the party..."
"I'm going to bed."
Andy slammed the phone down, and started going back up the stairs.
Ring, ring
Andy groaned, and picked up the phone again.
"Alright, what do you want?"
"I need to ask a favour, Andy," Vincent said, his posh voice making Andy want to the tear the phone apart and flush it down the toilet, "as you know, everyone who's going to the party is sixteen or seventeen, so it's hard for us to buy alcoholic beverages, and my father is thoroughly against drinking..."
"You want me to steal some of my Dad's for you again?"
"Well...yes, I suppose you could put it that way."
"What's in it for me?"
Vincent sighed sarcastically.
"Alright, Andy, how much do you want?"
"I don't want your money, Vince."
"Then what do you want?"
"Oh...don't worry. Alright, I'll bring drink. What's going on with the pot?"
"Craig has it sorted. Should be enough for everybody, thanks to Craig's family's financial condition and the welfare state. Anyway, see you there. Don't forget the drink."
"I won't. Bye."
Andy considered going back to sleep, but decided against it. Instead, he decided to start the day with a packet of crisps. As he brushed his long brown hair, one downward stroke on each side of his head, he looked in his reflection. He stared at his tired blue eyes, his freckles, which were spread thinly around his pale skin, and his teeth, realising that he hadn't brushed them at all the day before.
"Bugger."
The rest of the day passed like any other day for Andy. He thought about doing homework, or tidying his room, and procrastinated. He got distracted and played a Playstation game,only remembering his homework while going down for food. He then read his notes for two minutes, and continued to procrastinate, eventually resorting to playing on his Playstation once again.
This cycle repeated itself for five hours, until Andy's parents came home with his younger brother. Andy came downstairs to acknowledge his family's existence, asked what they were having for dinner, waited around in silence for a couple of minutes, then retired to his room again.
An hour later, dinner was served, and the family sat around the table-the only time when they were guaranteed to be together.
"Dad..." Andy said, slurping on a piece of potato made soggy with gravy, "I was wondering, could I pikey some drinks for the party tomorrow?"
Andy's father, Mike, rolled his eyes.
"How many do you want..."
"Well, Vince was wanting some too, and..."
"I'm not going to let Vince drink against his parents' will, Andy, forget it."
The family continued to eat in silence for a few minutes.
"Anyway," Mike said abruptly, "you shouldn't really be drinking at your age anyway. How are you going to achieve when you spend every other night destroying brain cells, hmm?"
"You don't seem to have been very successful..."
The entire family stopped eating and stared at Andy.
"What? He hasn't! I mean, what did you do at my age, dad? I'll bet you spent most of your days pissed out of your head. And you, mum, why else would you marry such a fat twat?"
"Now look here," Mike said, his voice raised a note, "there's no need for that sort of language. You want to talk dirty? Fine, but this is my house, and you're only living in it out of my own goodwill. So shut up and eat your dinner, or fuck off."
Andy looked down, feeling his father's stare as it penetrated his skull.
"Sorry."
Andy's brother, Fred, looked up.
"Dad..." he said, slowly, cautiously, "what exactly did you do when you were younger?"
Mike continued to stare at Andy for a while, then turned to his younger son.
"I was a lepidopterist."
Andy finished his food, and looked at his father, genuinely interested. Fred stared forward, nodding his head slowly, a blank expression on his face.
"What is a lepiditrist?" Andy asked.
"A lep-i-dop-te-rist," Mike said, spelling out the word as though he were teaching a baby to talk, "is someone who studies moths and butterflies."
"So you were some creep who caught butterflies and displayed their corpses for fun?" Andy asked.
"You could put it that way." Andy's mother, Carol, said, a childish glint in her eye.
Andy sniggered, while Fred continued eating, uninterested.
"Why did you study butterflies?"
"Because I like butterflies. They're fascinating creatures, and beautiful too. You know, it is said that if a butterfly beats its wings, the vibrations it causes in the air could build up to create or prevent hurricanes."
Andy raspberried dismissively.
"Sounds like bullshit to me. So I can take some beer to the party?"
Mike tutted. Andy thought he was going to say no, but just as he was about to beg, Mike threw his arms in the air.
"Sure, why not? Take a couple of cans."
"Cheers, dad."
The next day, Andy slouched up the path to Jason's house - Jason being the only boy among Andy's friend to have both a large house and tolerant parents. It was five in the afternoon, and the party was already well underway.
"Hey Andy!"
Vince, dressed smart-casual with his smooth black hair neatly combed asymmetrically to the sides, waltzed up to Andy from around the side of the house, his arms linked with two girls Andy had never met before.
"You got the alcohol?"
Andy shrugged, holding up the two lagers he was able to salvage.
"My Dad only let me take a couple. I looked for more, but I couldn't find any."
"Never mind," Vince said, "these two lovely ladies are pissed enough as it is-I'll take them."
"Wait, what?" Andy stuttered, struggling to understand Vince's ambiguous declaration, "Oh. No, I brought one for me, one for you..."
"Come on Andy," Vince said patronisingly, "it's not like it's going to do you any good. Me, on the other hand, my ego can't get too big for its own good. So why don't you hand them over so I can get merry enough to enjoy these girls' company, hmm?"
Andy gave the two cans of lager to Vince, he didn't let go of the two girls - one of whom appeared to be unconscious, slumped on Vince's shoulder, her black hair slowly unplaiting itself as she rubbed her head against Vince's head.
"She went to a party last night. A bit hungover, doesn't really know what she's doing. This one, on the other hand, is simply stupid."
The blonde girl on his other side stuck her bottom lip out slightly, groaning.
"And she's already a bit tipsy. So I've got everything I need here," Vince waved the cans of lager around and winked, "everyone's in the garden, round the side. Follow."
As big as Jason's garden was, Andy couldn't help thinking it would have been wiser to have everyone in the much larger house. Over fifty people attended the party, about ten of whom Andy knew. Jason was, of course, the centre of the party - he was the centre of nearly every party Andy went to.
If any of Andy's friends were more arrogant than Vince, it was Jason. The son of a millionaire, Jason considered himself superior to more or less everyone, despite not having a single true friend - he bought most of them. Andy was only friends with Jason because otherwise he couldn't possibly go to parties and have a half-decent social life.
"Hello there, Andrew!"
"Ah fuck..."
Andy turned around to see Jason approaching him.
"Hey Jase..." Andrew said, half-heartedly, before muttering beneath his breath, "fuck off, fuck off, fuck off!"
Jason was about to say something, when the black haired girl who had been with Vince ran up to them.
"Hey Jase!" she said, her voice raised to an unnaturally high volume, "how are you, you, uh..."
Jason stared at the dazed girl for a while in silence.
"Olive," he said, "your breath stinks. I don't suppose you would care to fuck off?"
The girl, Olive, answered by vomiting violently on Jason's leg.
"Ah shit! Those were my best jeans you absolute...wanker!"
"Hey Jason," Andy said calmly, "she's sick, maybe you should-"
"Fuck off Andy!" Jason growled, "and you Olive! Bloody hell!"
Jason stomped away into his house, leaving Andy alone with Olive.
"So..." Olive said, after spitting out a piece of regurgitated food.
"Yeah..." Andy answered, looking around for an excuse to leave her.
Andy saw Craig, a small, hairy boy in the year above him, handing out joints to people. The druggies all congregated in an empty corner of the garden. Seeing Vince and his blonde friend, Andy decided to join the circle.
"I'll see you around." Andy said to Olive.
"Oh...yeah...I'll just...yeah."
Andy gave Olive a weird look, and walked up to Craig.
"Hey Craig."
Craig turned around, picking his nose and losing a piece of snot in his fluffy beard.
"Oh, hi, unnn..."
"Andy, Vince's friend."
"Oh...oh, yeah, yeah, I thought I, uh...yeah."
Andy couldn't help grinning at the drug dealer, who smoked, injected or in any other way consumed so many combinations of drugs that he was convinced that it was normal for ducks to have four legs.
"So can I have some pot?"
"Eh? Oh...uh, no."
"What?" Andy frowned, "but Vince said there was enough for everybody."
Craig shrugged.
"Sorry, son, but I, ah, don't exactly have the money for fifty spliffs!"
"Fuck you." Andy said angrily, barging past him towards the circle of smokers, "Oi, Vince!"
Vince looked at Andy, a devilish grin on his face.
"Yeah, honey?"
"You said there'd be enough joints for everyone, but Craig's run out."
Vince blew cannabis smoke into his drunk blonde companion's face. She sprawled herself on his shoulder, half-asleep.
"Well, Andy, sorry about that. I thought you'd get in there a bit sooner. Never mind."
"Wait...wait, no, I gave you both my drinks. You gotta..."
"What?" Vince laughed, standing up, causing the blonde girl to flop onto his seat, "Share my cannabis with you? Fuck off!"
The other smokers laughed - except for the blonde girl, who was evidently too tired to join in.
"Why should you deserve anything from me?" Vince spat in Andy's face, leaning over him, "what do you actually do for the world? Do you have a job? Do you study? Do you respect your parents? Or your friends? No, you don't, so I don't see why I should share my spliff with you."
Vince turned towards the other eighteen conscious smokers.
"Come on guys. What do you say we go down to the woods?"
"The woods?"
"Shut it Andy!" Vince spat.
The crowd cheered, throwing a variety of unoffensive insults at Andy.
With that, Vince led his fellow pot-heads away from the party to the woods, for no apparent reason. Andy sat down, biting his lip in anger.
"Hi."
The blonde girl was now sitting up, her eyes wide open. She was smiling.
"Um...hi."
"I'm Bridget. Vince told me a lot about you, Andy."
She offered her hand to Andy, then pulled back after Andy hesitated for a second.
"Did he..." Andy said, slowly, "weren't you asleep just now?"
Bridget nodded, giggling.
"Yeah, I do that sometimes. Do you wanna go for a walk?"
"Eh?"
"A walk. With me. Well?"
"I, uh...what?"
Bridget burst into laughter, slapping Andy's chest playfully. Andy winced.
"Come on, don't be shy!" Bridget gently held Andy's hands, "Vince told me you were shy. Wow, he was right. Andy..."
Bridget was staring at Andy's crotch, giggling again.
"Oh...bugger."
Bridget choked in her laughter, and pulled Andy out of Jason's garden.
She continued to drag the reluctant lowlife around the lamplit streets until she found a bench, looking over the town.
"Sit with me?"
"I...fine."
Andy sat on the bench, leaving a space between him and the strange girl.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"What?"
"The town," Bridget exclaimed enthusiastically, "all lit up at night and...look!"
She pointed at the sky, towards a star that had just appeared.
"Wow. A star. The sky's clearing up. Great."
Bridget scowled at Andy, tutting. She slapped him in the chest again.
"Can you stop that, please?" Andy said, crossing his arms.
"Sorry. So...tell me about yourself."
"Eh?"
Bridget burst into hysterics once again.
"You know! Tell me...about yourself."
She slid along the bench so that she could hold Andy's hand, again.
"I don't know what to say...I don't feel comfortable with...this."
"I'm scaring you?"
Andy shrugged.
"I'm just flirting with you, Andy. You seem really nice."
"Fuck off. Nobody thinks I'm nice. They all think I'm a stinky, lazy lowlife."
"That's what Vince said you were," Bridget admitted, "but he seems like a bit of a twat to be honest..."
"Do you really think so?" Andy asked.
"Well, yeah. You heard what he said about me earlier, when you arrived. The whole night he's basically been a faggot around me and Olive."
"Olive?"
"My friend. The one who puked on that rich guy's shoes."
"Oh yeah! That was hilarious."
"It was!"
Bridget laughed until she was choking.
"Sorry! Sorry, but that guy's such a twat...if it had happened to anyone else..."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," Andy said, chuckling, "sorry, I'm not used to this sort of thing...you know"
Bridget shook her head.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You know. Talking. With girls. All of my friends have been boys."
"Are you gay?"
"Eh? Oh! No, no, of course not!"
"Are you homophobic?"
"Why do you keep asking these random questions?"
Bridget smiled.
"I'm trying to get to know you!"
"But why..."
"Look," Bridget swivelled herself around so that she was facing Andy, "I know how you're feeling...I think. Everyone has to start somewhere. Just sit with me, okay?"
"Okay..."
The two adolescents sat there for the night, watching the sky clear. Bridget curled up on Andy's lap.
"Vince was right." Bridget said, trying hard not to giggle, "you do smell."
"Thanks, Bridget. That does wonders for my self esteem."
"I didn't say you smell bad."
"Oh...I smell good?"
Bridget looked at Andy in the eyes, smiling.
"You smell of manliness."
Andy's eyes widened, but before he could think of an appropriate reply, Bridget closed her eyes.
"Bridget...Bridget?"
The girl gave no answer. She had gone to sleep.
"Right...right, whatever."
Andy woke up at dawn, and was surprised to find his arms wrapped around Bridget. He considered getting up, or waking Bridget, but instead decided to just sit there.
Eventually, Bridget stirred awake, announcing her consciousness with a cry of delight.
"Look!"
Andy flinched, accidentally poking Bridget in the breast.
"What?"
"A butterfly."
Andy withdrew his hand, which appeared to be lingering where it had jumped to, and made one of his signature raspberries of dismissal.
"Oh. Wow."
"You don't like butterflies?"
"Well...I don't know."
Andy thought about his father.
"My dad likes butterflies."
"Really? See, we do have something in common!"
"No really..."
The butterfly flew towards Bridget, and she held out her finger. The butterfly landed on it, much to Bridget's delight. Its wings were a dark blue, appearing to be black in places, with white stripes. On the bottom of its wings were two eye-like dots.
"Wow..." Bridget gasped, "it's beautiful."
Andy bit his lip, and got out his phone.
"What are you doing?" Bridget asked.
"Taking a picture, of course. It's not everyday a butterfly lands on your finger, is it?"
Bridget smiled. Andy managed to take a photo just before the butterfly flew away.
"Wow. It's great." Bridget commented on the photo.
"Yeah...shit, do Jason and that lot know we're here?"
Bridget bit her tongue, shaking her head.
"We should go back. They might be worried."
"Yeah..."
As they approached Jason's house, Jason approached them - he still smelt of vomit, despite having changed trousers and shoes.
"Oi, you fuckers! I thought you'd been knifed or something. Why didn't you come back last night?"
"Sorry." Andy and Bridget muttered simultaneously, shrugging.
"That's not good enough...fucking hell."
"We, uhm, need to get our stuff."
"Alright, but be quick, I'm so sick of the sight of you I might...I might..."
"Puke on our legs?" Andy suggested.
Jason spat at Andy's foot, missing by several inches.
"Just get your stuff, I'm pissed off with you."
As Andy and Bridget walked up Jason's huge stairs towards his bedroom, where their bags were kept, they saw Vincent.
"Oh...oh," Vincent started clapping sarcastically, "Andy, get in there!"
"Fuck off, Vince." Andy mumbled.
"What? So, what did Bridget do to you? She's a hedonistic devil, you know. Complete slut. Seduces anyone for money and pleasure. Oh yeah, she's gone pretty far, I'll tell you that-"
"Fuck off, Vince." Bridget snarled, pushing him out the way.
"Oh yeah, I forgot to warn you, she can get pretty kinky too." Vince sniggered, "She's perfect for you, Andy, come to think of it. You don't have to work for her at all. You can be lazy and let her do all the work. Sort of like your mum and dad."
Andy stopped, his hands curling up into fists. He swung round to face Vince.
"Vince...I'm not having this any more. Stop it. Please."
"What? Oh, sorry, I thought you hated your dad. At least, that's what you keep saying."
"You know I don't mean it."
"Yeah. You don't mean anything you say. Meaning you'll continue to tolerate everything I say forever and ever and ever. You're pathetic. Just like your dad. Tell me, what's his job again?"
"He's...unemployed."
"Right. So good for nothing, basically."
"My dad is good for plenty of things, Vince!" Andy yelled, spit flying into Vince's face, "he's helping to raise two children. He's taking care of the house."
"So he's a househusband. Not helping yourself, Andy!"
"And," Andy said, "he...he used to be a...a...a lepidop...terist."
Vince's eyes widened, genuinely surprised.
"A what now?"
"A lepidopterist."
Vince's face was blank for a few seconds, before he smiled, and let out a diabolical chuckle.
"My, my, that's a big word for you, isn't it? So tell me, Andy, what is a lepidopterist?"
"It's someone who studies moths and butterflies." Andy said, matter-of-factly.
"Oh. So good for nothing, basically. Pathetic. You're pathetic. All you do is cry, cry, cry, whine, whine, whine, you don't give a flying fuck about anyone else-"
Vince was interrupted by Bridget's slap, which continued to sting long after the initial shock of being attacked.
"Fuck off Vince!" She cried, "you're always...always criticising everyone, when really the only person who you should be criticising is yourself! So just leave Andy alone, alright?"
Vince stared at Bridget, a long, hateful stare. Bridget simply rolled her eyes, and, holding eachother's hand, Andy and Bridget turned their backs on Vince to get their bags.
A few minutes later, Andy and Bridget were walking home, in a strangely comfortable silence, before Bridget spoke.
"Well, this is my house."
Bridget stopped, and stepped on the pathway to a small semi-detached house, painted blue.
"Right..." Andy mumbled, hiding his desire to be with her a while longer, "that was really brave, what you did earlier."
"Hmm?"
"Slapping Vince like that."
"Pfft. He had it coming!"
"I suppose...anyway..."
Bridget stood on her toes, smiling.
"I really enjoyed last night."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You seem really nice."
"Um...is it true, what Vince said?"
"What, about me being a slut and stuff?"
"Yeah."
Bridget sighed, curling her lips awkwardly.
"Sort of. But...I...well..."
"Don't worry about it." Andy said, abruptly.
"Huh?"
"Don't worry. I don't care what he says. Afterall...he seems like a bit of a twat, to be honest."
She burst out into laughter, as she seemed to do often, and kissed Andy on the cheek.
"Call me sometime, okay?"
"Uh...what, like, to go to watch a, uh, film, or something?"
"Yeah...yeah, I would like that."
"Awesome!" Andy said, his eyes beaming, "um...I mean...uh..."
"Okay? Cool? Good?"
"I was thinking more...great."
"Awww. How nice of you. Well, I'll see you sometime."
Bridget walked up to her door, and turned around, gesturing "call me".
"Bye!" Andy called.
Bridget waved, and disappeared behind her house's blue door. Andy punched his fist into the air, victoriously.
"Fuck you, Vince! Yeah!"
So it was that Andy walked home with his head held high. Things were finally starting to look up for him. Granted, he still had many problems to face. But at least now he could face those problems with a true friend standing by his side.
Gender:
Points: 1165
Reviews: 50