My Butterfly

half-smile.
    “I was the one who held the door for you when you left the gym to go to the emergency room,” I said. “You said ‘thank you,’ and I remember thinking, Why isn’t she crying? ”
    Her expression looked soft and thoughtful, as if she was playing back each moment in her mind.
    “And when we were nine,” I continued, “I was at the park, and I fell trying to skateboard and tore my knee to pieces. You stayed with me until my dad came and got me.”
    “That was you?” she asked.
    There was surprise—almost disbelief—in her voice.
    “And there was another time,” I went on, “when you were at the movies with your friends and Jeff was being Jeff, and he strolled right up to you and hit on you—like you would expect a seventh-grader to hit on a girl. I couldn’t hear what you said to him, and he never told me, but you whispered something into his ear. But as you were whispering, you were smiling at me.”
    I watched her cock her head a little. Her stare was now off somewhere in the distance.
    “I said, ‘I have a boyfriend,’” she eventually said, returning her eyes to mine. “But I didn’t have a boyfriend.”
    She shook her head, and a wide smile danced to life on her face.
    “I remember looking at him—you,” she said and then paused. “I remember looking at you and then coming up with that excuse.”
    Her stare faded away again before returning to me.
    “Wow, now I see it was you all along, but it’s like it wasn’t you—like…”
    “It was like you didn’t notice me,” I said.
    Her smile softened and then slowly, she shook her head.
    “It was like I didn’t notice you,” she confessed.
    “Well, as long as you notice me now,” I said, smiling what I was sure was a goofy grin and sliding deeper into the booth.
    Her lips broke open into a wide smile, and she softly laughed.
    “I notice you now,” she said.
    She was piercing my eyes with those beautiful, green weapons of hers. And I loved the hell out of it.
    “I notice you now,” she said again.

Chapter Six
    The Stars
     
     
    “J ulia,” I whispered as loud as I could. “Julia.”
    I took out the few small rocks I had gathered from her driveway and had stuffed into my pocket and thrust one up into the half-open window. Then, I waited.
    Nothing happened.
    “Julia,” I called out a little louder.
    I took a second rock and tossed it up at the glass, then a third. Then, suddenly, I saw a figure in the window. The shadowed outline pushed back the curtains and pressed a forehead against the screen.
    “Will?” I heard a soft voice say. “What are you doing?”
    “Julia,” I said, trying to keep my voice down.
    Her head disappeared from the window for a second and then returned.
    “It’s two in the morning,” she said into the screen.
    “I know,” I said. “I want to show you something.”
    She was quiet for a second.
    “Will, it’s two in the morning,” she said again, but this time, she said it with a little more emphasis on the two part.
    “Just this once,” I pleaded.
    There was a long pause.
    “Okay,” she conceded. “I’ll be down there in a minute.”
    Her head started to disappear from the screen again.
    “No,” I quickly said.
    “What?” she asked, returning to the window.
    “You’re kidding me?” I asked. “You’ll wake your parents, and they’ll never let me see you again. Just climb out the window.”
    There was a long pause again, and I was imagining her giving me a sarcastic look, as if climbing out the window was a better way to her parents’ hearts.
    She disappeared again from the window and then returned within a few moments. Then, I heard her fidgeting with the screen, and I smiled.
    After a handful of seconds, the screen was out and one of her legs was swung over the windowsill.
    “Now, be careful,” I said up to her, still trying to keep my voice down as much as possible.
    She rested one foot on the porch roof and then swung the other leg over the sill as well. It was only then that I could fully see her with the help of the rays from the dusk-to-dawn light in the background. She was wearing those tiny boxer shorts that girls wear and a tank top that had the high school’s mascot plastered on the front of it. And there were little flip flop shoes on her feet.
    “You don’t do this much, do you?” I asked.
    Her eyes met mine with a blank stare.
    “Your shoes,” I said, eyeing her feet. “Just be careful. Those don’t tend to be the best shoes for