Free The Butterfly Clues by Kate Ellison

I say, wrapping my fingers around the butterfly in my pocket, relaxing my face, voice, attempting to sound casual. “I feel guilty about being out of touch for so long. I’m thinking it might help if I could talk to some people who knew her.”
    It’s not difficult for me to make these sorts of lies sound genuine. The guilt is real enough. The guilt is always real. I dig my heel into my shoe, feel the mashed up piece of paper slide against my sock so I always know, so I never forget that anywhere I go, anything I do, there is at least one thing I’ll never be able to undo.
    Flynt looks at me hard, a look that makes me draw back. “I wouldn’t get your hopes up about the girls at Tens.” His cute dimples have disappeared, and his face is serious now. “The thing with strippers is this: unless you’re a client or carrying a cocktail, they’re not interested in talking. You’d be wasting your time.” He stands up, all business suddenly. “We should get you to the bus. I’ve got some stuff to work on over at Malatesta’s, and it’s getting dark.”
    Just like that, he turns and walks back toward the stairwell. I follow him, feeling like the air has just been knocked out of me.
    Tap tap tap, banana ; I don’t care if he notices or not. We exit the building in silence. Flynt doesn’t make more jokes about staircase monsters or giant holes in the stairs. He doesn’t look back to check on me. Outside, the darkness feels huge.
    “So, do you need me to walk you to your bus?” Flynt asks flatly, like he hopes I’ll say no.
    There’s a chance I’ll get lost, but I don’t want him around if he doesn’t want to be.
    “No,” I answer. “I’ll be fine. I’m fine.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Yeah. Totally sure.” I pull my cell phone from my pocket and pretend to check a text message that doesn’t exist. I bet this annoys Flynt. I hope it does. “My friend … um, Jeremy … texted me to say that he’s around here. So, I’ll be fine. I’ll meet up with him.”
    “Oh. Okay. Well, do you think you’re gonna come by again anytime soon?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Flynt rubs his forehead, under his bear hat, and sighs.
    “Lo, look, I’m sorry to break the news to you about Tens. It’s just the truth.”
    “Yeah. Thanks.” I don’t look at him. I don’t want to give in. Instead, I stare at the sleeves of my coat. They’re dirty, covered in red paint, Flynt’s hand-splatters. I was happy about it earlier, and now I’m not. Now I’m annoyed, off center. “I’m going to go, okay? Jeremy’s waiting for me.”
    “Yeah, me, too. Got a lot to do.” He chucks my shoulder with the back of his hand like nothing’s happened. “Don’t be a stranger, Lo. Come back soon. Really. You know I’ll be here.”
    Flynt salutes me and walks in the opposite direction, toward Malatesta’s. I finger the dried paint on my coat as I walk to the bus, studying the street signs carefully. I’d be worried about Mom getting mad, except I know she’ll never notice.
    Thirteen and a half blocks to the bus stop. Left on Eastern Avenue. Right on 117th.
    Maybe Flynt was right. Maybe he was genuinely trying to help. But when I mentioned Sapphire, it felt as though I flipped an invisible switch inside of him. Suddenly he became a different person—evasive and nervous. And mean, too.
    He told me I was pretty.
    He’s a liar.
    I run my fingers across the dried paint again on my coat. Six streaks. I see his hands in my mind. His long fingers.
    I wish I could erase him. But he’s stuck on me, now.
    Six streaks. For good.

CHAPTER 7
    The next day, school’s as long as ever, but I’m distracted by too many things to notice its slow crawl. Why would Flynt lie about knowing Sapphire?
    I space out for most of Brit Lit while Sidney Lourie and Brigid Crank, the girls in class with straight, silky blonde hair and beefy boyfriends, gush about Pride and Prejudice for nearly thirty minutes.
    Why did he turn so suddenly, and then try and