Chasing Butterflies by Beckie Stevenson

out from under the bed. Wow, she’s still so strong. “I can’t think of anything else while it’s happening, Granny! I don’t know what to do.”
    “Here,” she says. Before I have chance to look up to see what she’s offering me, I feel something cool against the inside of my thigh. I scream when I realise it’s a razor blade she’s dragging across my skin. Blood gushes out of the slit she’s made, and I clamp my hands over it to try and stop the bleeding. I cry out again.
    “You won’t bleed out,” she tells me calmly. “It’s just a surface wound.”
    “What did you do that for?” I shriek as I turn my blood-covered hand over, watching the way the blood trickles down my arm. “It’s hurting,” I tell her. “It’s really hurting!”
    Granny looks at me like I’m something horrible that she’s just stepped on as black spots start to flash in front of my eyes.
    “I’ve just given you something else to think about. Lightning just flashed across the sky and you didn’t even notice, and you certainly didn’t cry like a baby when the thunder followed it.”
    “What?” I breathe. I can feel my eyes blinking like mad as I look up at her.
    “Here,” she spits, throwing the razor blade at me. “You keep that for next time you need to divert your attention.”
    “The next time?” I repeat.
    “Just don’t go too deep.”
    The blade clatters on the floor in front of me, then the room starts to spin and everything goes black.
     
     
     
     
    I sneak down the stairs, even though I have no idea whereabouts in the house Granny is, and slowly open the front door. I’m expecting her to yell at me, to beckon me back and make me explain where I’m going, to ask why I’m not at school. But she doesn’t.
    In fact, I haven’t seen or heard Granny at all since she came into my room last night. I’m glad. I hope she’s gone away for a few days, or even better, I hope she’s made a promise to herself to never speak to me again.
    I slowly shut the door behind me and peek out onto my street, hoping there aren’t any stragglers still on their way to school that might see me. I used to love going to school. Despite not knowing anything about the real world, I seem to excel at certain subjects, and it’s a way for me to escape the horribleness at home. But since Jasmine and her friends have upped their game, school has become a nightmare. I just don’t want to face it—or them—today.
    I manage to walk into the village without anyone stopping me, and I even catch a bus without the driver admonishing me for not being at school. I make it all the way to the big village that’s fifteen miles away from Eleze, and when I step off the bus, I feel ready to make some changes.
    After seeing the girls at that party the other night, I’ve realised that I don’t dress appropriately for my age. I don’t look my age either, and I’ve started to wonder if that’s why Gabriel doesn’t look at me the way I want him to look at me. Maybe that’s why he thinks he can’t see me again. Maybe if I wore clothes that are cool and trendy and have my hair styled the way other girls have their hair styled, he’d like me more. Maybe he’d like me enough to kiss me again, to make me feel like I’ve got butterflies in my tummy again.
    Then I realise I don’t have any money to buy clothes or have my hair done, and I feel annoyed with myself. I guess I’m just going to have to stick with looking and feeling odd, and I’ll never be good enough for him.
    Disappointed, I decide to just walk around for a bit. It’s not like I have anything to get back to anyway. After strolling the length of the main street a couple of times, I breathe a sigh of relief when I step out of the sweltering heat and into the cool bank. I brush the beads of sweat off my forehead and wipe my face with my fingers as I get in the queue.
    I figured everyone else seems to get money from a bank, so I might as well try. Maybe I could get a loan or