Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106754 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
They showed me their things. Weather-beaten comic books that were stained from the rain that fell through the cracks in the treehouse roof. Bones they found buried in the backyard. Tiny, pretty, fragile white bones, licked clean by the earth and the weather. I was as mesmerized by their possessions as I was by them. They were enchanting. Different. So very beautiful.
I admired what they were showing me and said the right things so they’d like me. Parker did so from the start, admiring me, trying to impress me. But Kade was a tougher nut to crack. He was mostly silent, contemplating before speaking out loud. Parker was his bright opposite. They were yin and yang, the sun and the moon—opposites that completed each other in the most intoxicating way.
It took me an hour to be comfortable around them. Just one hour until Parker took Kade aside and begged him to show me something. Kade didn’t want to. I flushed a deep shade of red as the twins argued on whether I was trustworthy enough. I buried my little fingers in the pockets of my pink dress, biting my lower lip.
My eyes met Kade’s. He didn’t like me, I could tell, but he was being nice for his brother’s sake. I wanted to cry, but I forced the tears back and managed a tentative smile instead.
Kade groaned, turning his attention back to his brother. Finally, they seemed to agree on something, and Parker proudly brought over an intricately carved wooden box.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed as my fingertips glided over it.
“It’s our mother’s old jewelry box,” Parker explained.
“What’s in it?”
Parker grinned before lifting the lid. Inside the box, there was a wooden plaque. A white butterfly was pinned to it, the pins holding it down. The insect was still alive, but barely. It flapped its wings pathetically. It was dying, dying in a horrible way that made me feel sick and twisted my stomach into a painful knot.
“Why…” I swallowed thickly. “Why are you hurting the butterfly?”
“Because it’s beautiful,” Kade answered me resolutely. “And we want to keep it. If we didn’t do this, it would get away.”
I stood then. I was tall enough to stand in the treehouse while the boys had to crouch. I put my hands on my hips and glared at the older one of the twins.
“You’re hurting it.”
“So?” He laughed easily. “It’s weak. It can’t fight back.”
“It’s not right,” I shook my head resolutely. “You can’t hurt innocent things just because you’re stronger than they are.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, little girl.” Kade slammed the lid of the box shut, grabbed it out of his brother’s hands, and put it away without giving me a second glance.
Our parents called us down a moment later, and I followed the brothers down the oak tree and into the house while a plan formed in my head.
Kade had underestimated me. I may have been a little girl, but I was determined, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with this. That butterfly didn’t deserve to die, and I was going to save it. And nobody was going to stop me.
I waited until darkness fell that night. It was a cold late summer night, and I didn't catch a wink of sleep. My nightmares had plagued me night after night lately, so it suited me just fine. This way, I avoided waking up in a cold sweat with my heart racing.
When Mom checked on me to turn off my night-light, I pretended to be asleep. And once complete silence enveloped the house, I crawled out of bed, bare feet hitting the hardwood floor.
Going out through the back door, I winced as the screen squeaked. But everyone in the house was fast asleep.
I ran through the grass damp from the night to the treehouse. I remembered where the boys kept the flashlight they'd shown me earlier, and I used it to guide my way.
My heart was thumping in my chest—I was terrified. But there was no way I was going to give up. I needed to save that innocent creature.
My fingers shook and the flashlight fell, clattering to the floor. I picked it up, feeling as if someone was watching me. The fear crept under my skin as I scrambled to find the wooden box. Finally, my hand wrapped around the familiar, carved shape of it, and I pulled it free of the drawer.
I knelt on the rickety floor, carefully lifting the lid of the box.
The butterfly was still there, but barely moving. Its wings were paper thin. I wanted to cry when I saw it struggling to break free.
I took out the pins as carefully as I could, but the insect was too hurt to move on its own. I was so focused on my task I didn't see someone else coming up the stepladder behind me. Not until the lid of the box snapped shut, making me scream as it smashed my fingers.