Free My Butterfly by Laura Miller Page A

love.

Chapter Nine
    College
     
     
    “W hat about this one?”
    I twisted the features on my face and shook my head.
    Jeff gave the flower a sideways glare and then tossed it back into its bin.
    “Well, what do they look like again?” he asked.
    “You know, they’re those flowers on the side of the road,” I said. “My grandma always called them butterfly weeds.”
    He stared at me blankly.
    “The ones the butterflies are always hovering around in my grandma’s backyard,” I said.
    His stupid face didn’t change.
    “They’re orange, little flowers,” I said. “Just look for orange flowers.”
    The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyebrows made a crease in the center of his forehead.
    “Orange. Got it,” he said and scurried off.
    I shook my head and went back to rummaging through the bins of flowers. Who knew that there were so many different kinds? I browsed over blues and yellows and reds before I finally found the section that was mostly orange. My eyes traveled over each flower, looking for the perfect match, until finally, there it was.
    “Found it,” I called out to Jeff.
    Jeff didn’t answer. I snatched up the flower and examined it some more. It was a perfect match. I moseyed out of the aisle lined with every flower you could imagine and eventually found myself in the front of the dime store again. I glanced around for Jeff and quickly spotted him leaning against a tall display full of those big, birthday balloons. His elbows were propped up on the counter, and it looked as if he was talking to someone behind it. I wondered for a second why I had even brought him. Then, I quickly remembered that places like this scared the hell out of me.
    “Jeff, could use some help,” I said, coming up behind him.
    It took him a second, but he eventually half-turned toward me, revealing a young girl behind the counter. The girl’s eyes caught mine, and she smiled.
    “Nice flowers,” she said.
    My eyes darted down toward my hand that was tightly gripping the orange bouquet. I felt my cheeks grow hot. I really just wanted to get out of the store.
    “What do you need now?” Jeff asked in a way that sounded as if I were inconveniencing him.
    “Uh, could you tell me where I would find some string?” I asked the girl.
    The girl giggled.
    “You probably want ribbon,” she said, smiling wide.
    The corners of my mouth nervously turned up.
    “Here, I’ll show you where it is,” she said.
    The girl stepped down from behind the counter and made her way to the other side of the store. I felt a jab at my bicep and looked up to see Jeff’s dumb, smiling face.
    “She’s cute, huh?” he asked, under his breath.
    I impatiently glared at him and then followed after the girl.
    “Okay,” she said, stopping in an aisle full of string in all different colors “What kind do you need?”
    My eyes fell back on the flowers still gripped tightly in my hand, and suddenly, I felt her fingers on my forearm.
    “Do you need it for these flowers?” she asked.
    Her voice wasn’t sarcastic anymore. Now, it was more soft and almost teacher-like.
    I nodded my head.
    “Yeah,” I said.
    I noticed Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He was scowling at my forearm.
    “They’re for his girlfriend,” Jeff blurted out.
    Both the girl’s and my attention turned to Jeff, propped up against a display of string.
    “Well, I’ll help find you something pretty then,” she said, warmly smiling at me again.
    She left me then and hurried over to a row of white string.
    “I saw her first,” Jeff whispered, charging toward me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “I saw the way she was looking at you,” he said.
    I squinted my eyes and cocked my head.
    “This should be perfect,” the girl said, returning with a spool of white string.
    She reached in between Jeff and me and took the flowers.
    “What do you think?” she asked, holding the two up together.
    “Looks great,” I said.
    “Your girlfriend will love it,” the girl said,