AGE ELEVEN
I have to stay with Mum this weekend. I don’t like it.
She takes me to parties and brunches and makes me wear dresses and sit with her friends’ children.
I want to stay with Papa and listen to his friends. They’re cool people – Papa’s friends, I mean.
They own the whole country.
Papa says no, that the Conservative Party doesn’t own the UK; they just govern it. And the only reason they do that is because they gained the people’s vote.
I don’t care. They’re cool and they own the country in my mind. They know a lot of stuff about stuff, and they make me feel so important when I help our housekeeper bring them tea. Papa always asks about my opinion and lets me read his favourite books.
When I grow up, I’m going to be him. I’m going to stand in front of many people in the parliament and defend my beliefs.
Mum is also in the Conservative Party, but she’s from the loser faction — or that’s what Frederic, Papa’s right-hand man, says. He tells me Mum is from the faction who nominate a leader who never wins the internal elections.
Being members of the same party should’ve given my parents a reason to stay together, but they somehow managed to find a way to disagree, even while having the same general beliefs.
Anyway, Mum’s friends aren’t cool. They’re snobs and frequently make me feel like I need to walk the line around them.
Papa’s friends are way better.
But this weekend, I have to go to Mum’s. I asked Papa if I could stay with him, but he says she’s my parent too.
If I don’t go, Mum will come and pick a fight with Papa all over again. Mum doesn’t shut up — at all. She made the divorce and the custody process so messy, I still have nightmares about it.
But she’s my mum, and I don’t like seeing her alone. For three years, I tried bringing her and Papa together again by suggesting we have holidays together, but they always, without fail, ended them with a fight. It’s like they look for opportunities to argue.
I guess I can survive the weekend.
But first, I need to get ready. That’s why I’m sitting in the park alone. I wore my navy blue dress with matching flats and I have my hair loose, falling down my back.
One hour until I have to meet Mum’s friends for lunch.
I can do this.
I sit cross-legged on the bench and place my hands on my knees. I’m meditating. It’s a trick Helen taught me to use when my thoughts are all over the place.
Helen is way better than my mum in being quiet. She listens to me and does my hair and gives me gifts. She taught me tricks to make better tea and she lets me be with her when she’s baking.
If her son, Cole, wasn’t a pain in the arse, maybe I would’ve spent this hour with her instead of being alone.
I don’t like boys in general. They act like pigs, are annoying, and don’t let others be at peace.
All they care about is pulling pranks. Especially Aiden and Cole. I still want to punch the tosser Aiden for tripping me the other day.
But who I hate the most is Cole. He offered me his hand to help me up and then he pulled on my ponytail and said, “Go cry in the park.”
I hate that he knows how important this place is to me. He’s been using it to taunt me every chance he gets. Sometimes, he follows me here just to make fun of me. He doesn’t do it in front of the others because everyone believes Cole is a good boy.
They think Aiden is slightly mischievous and Xander is the bad boy, but they don’t know that Cole is a first-class wanker.
I tried finding another special place other than this park, but I couldn’t. This is where I had my first picnic with my parents. Or maybe it wasn’t the first, but it’s my first happy memory, so it became my sanctuary. My escape from the world.
The wanker Cole won’t take that away from me.
Happy thoughts. Don’t think about Cole. Happy thoughts.
As soon as I return from Mum’s, Papa will hear me play the piano piece I’m practicing for an upcoming competition. Helen will teach me how to make cakes. For some reason, I never get it right. I’m better with preparing tea.
Someone pulls on a strand of my hair and I groan, my eyes snapping open.
Cole sits beside me, smiling. He does that a lot — staying silent and having that infuriating smile all over his face.
He’s not saying anything, but his expression feels like a taunt all on its own.
“What do you want?” I snap.
“This park is for everyone, Butterfly.”
Ugh. I hate it when he calls me that. It’s a reminder of that day I showed him my weakness when I shouldn’t have.
Though his advice worked. When I told the judge that I wanted to stay with Papa, he didn’t hesitate to give my father custody. Mum didn’t talk to me or Papa for a week and I had to go apologise to her about it before she would forgive me.
I’ll never tell Cole I’m thankful. That means showing weakness in front of him again and he’ll use that against me for years to come.
That day was black in both our lives. When I went home, my parents sat me down and announced they were getting a divorce. I cried myself to sleep that night.
The following morning, I found out that Uncle William, Cole’s father, tripped in his pool and hit his head against the edge. He died around the time Cole was talking to me in the park.
Cole’s life has never been the same since then. He doesn’t say it, but I kind of feel it.
Mum and her friends keep saying Helen became a rich widow who has so much money, she won’t be able to spend it in her lifetime.
Cole didn’t cry at his father’s funeral. He doesn’t cry in general, but I thought he would that day.
However, he didn’t even shed one tear.
He spent the entire ceremony clutching his mother’s hand as she sobbed. It was like she was crying both Cole’s and her share.
That day, I gave Cole my Snickers bar. I only get one every three days — Mum’s rules because I have to watch my diet — and I figured since he was sad, the chocolate would make him feel better.
He glared at it, then at me, before he told me to eat it in front of him. I did, secretly happy I could get my chocolate. While I was still eating, he told me I was selfish. I threw the rest of the chocolate bar on his chest and left.
He’s been a wanker ever since. He makes me think he wants to spend time with me, just to say mean things while smiling.
I hate it when he does that.
I hate his smiles and his chestnut hair that he keeps long enough to be ruffled by the wind. I also hate that his eyes are a green so rare, it’s mesmerising. It’s not foresty like Kim’s, no. It’s also not like the grass everyone can stomp on. It’s like the tip of the tall trees where it appears light but it’s in fact dark and deep. High and mighty and far.
So, so far, it’s almost impossible to climb up to it.
“Are you still mad because you lost in chess earlier?” He smiles. “You’re a newbie.”
“I’ll win next time. Whatever.”
“You can’t win against me, Butterfly.”
“Of course I can. I won in the piano competition. Hmph.”
“That’s because I let you.”
“That’s what losers say.”
“You don’t want to challenge me, or I’ll make you cry again.”
“Go to hell.”
His grin widens. “Whoa. Big words, Miss Prim and Proper.”
I narrow my eyes on him. “What would it take for you to leave me alone?”
He pauses for a second, seeming to seriously consider my offer. Then he taps his cheek. “Kiss me here.”
“I won’t!”
“Fine.” He lets his arm drop to his side before he sneakily pulls on my hair.
“Ow!”
“What?”
“I told you not to do that anymore.”
“You didn’t give me what I wanted. Why should I give you what you want?”
“You’re such a…a…”
“You can’t find the word?”
“A tosser!”
“I’m fine with that. Are you going to kiss me or should I bother you until Cynthia comes to pick you up?”
“Why do you want me to kiss your cheek?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Because.”
“Tell me why or I won’t do it.”
He pauses, his smile disappearing. Cole doesn’t like it when he’s cornered. Finally, he speaks quietly. “You haven’t done it to any other boys.”
It’s my turn to smile. “Because you want my firsts?”
He nods. “Now do it or I’ll pull your hair again.”
“Say please.”
“I’m not saying please,” he mocks. “Do it or I’ll pull on your hair.”
“Then I’ll just kiss Aiden’s cheek and you’ll lose that first forever.”
Cole’s nostrils flare and I fold my arms, feeling smug.
“You’ll regret this,” he says.
“Don’t care.”
He takes a deep breath. “Please.”
“Please what?”
“Silver,” he warns. He only uses my given name when he’s mad or wants me to do something.
“You have to say the whole sentence.”
He grits his teeth but speaks in a calm voice. “Please kiss me on the cheek.”
I do.
Placing a hand on the bench, I lean over and brush my lips against his right cheek. The contact is brief, but for some reason, my face heats and I quickly pull back.
He’s smirking.
Why is he smirking?
Cole taps his left cheek. “Now, the other one.”
“We only agreed on one cheek.”
“We only agreed on a cheek, we didn’t specify which one. I wanted the left one.”
“Fine.” I want to feel his skin again anyway.
He leans in slightly so his left cheek is in front of me. But the moment my lips are about to make contact with his skin, he abruptly turns his head and his mouth seals to mine.
For a second, I’m too stunned to react. His lips are soft and feel fuller than they look.
And now, they’re on mine.
I reel back in shock, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. My cheeks are so hot, I feel like they’ll explode.
“W-w-w-why d-did you d-do t-that?!” I point a shaky finger at him. It’s like I can’t speak anymore.
Another smirk lifts his lips. The lips I just kissed. “Because.”
“Cole, you…you…”
“Tosser?” he completes for me, tilting his head.
“I wish you’d die —” I pause, realising what I said. Those words should never be said, not after what happened with Mum recently. “I didn’t mean that.”
“I’m fine if you do. Besides, you’re the only one to blame for this.”
“Me?”
“I told you you’d regret it. Don’t threaten me again, Butterfly. You’ll never win against me.”
I hit his shoulder with a closed fist. “Go away!”
“Or what? You’ll stop acting like a lady? You already have. Ladies don’t punch.”
“Shut up and go.”
“All right, all right. A deal is a deal. I’m going.” He staggers to his feet, still smiling in that infuriating way, taunting me, making me want to punch him in the throat.
“I hate you.” I glare up at him. His shadow is camouflaging the sun and his presence is blocking everything else.
He ruffles my hair, making the golden strands fly everywhere, before he places a palm on the top of my head and leans down so his face is level with mine.
There’s no smile on his lips as he speaks with an edge to the tone of his voice. “Hate me all you want, but keep our promise. All your firsts are mine.”
