Paper Butterflies. Lisa Heathfield

Miss Hawthorne says, ‘we have a birthday today.’

      I feel the blood rushing up my cheeks as she smiles at me. I wish she didn’t know. She thinks that she’s being nice, but I don’t want to do this.

      ‘Come up to the front, June.’ She pats the empty chair beside her.

      She doesn’t hear the air-popping noises that have started again. I stand up awkwardly, step over the knees of those sitting in front of me.

      ‘Now, remember, don’t sit down on it,’ Miss Hawthorne says. ‘This is the one day that you’re allowed to stand on a school chair. Make the most of it.’

      I step on to the wooden seat. I’m worried that the people in the front can see up my skirt, so I smooth it down with my hands and keep them clasped there.

      ‘Fishy,’ I hear someone hiss.

      ‘Right. On three,’ Miss Hawthorne says. ‘One, two, three.’

      And they’re singing, all their faces tipped up towards me. Ryan moves his hand, as though it’s swimming through water, so subtly that Miss Hawthorne would never know. Stuart looks like he’s singing, but he’s not. His wet lips are just smacking open and closed in a circle, like a dying fish. But all Miss Hawthorne can hear is the sound of their voices, making my day special.

      I don’t want them looking at me. I don’t want any of them looking at me.

      As soon as they finish, I get down from the chair and hurry back to my place on the carpet, willing a tornado to suddenly break through the sky and whisk us all away.

      ‘What did you get for your birthday?’ Jennifer asks. We’re sitting on a wall, safely away in the corner of the playground. Our legs swing down, sandwiches balanced on our laps.

      ‘A bike,’ I tell her. I’m so proud. I just want to get home so I can see it. Even if Kathleen will be waiting.

      ‘Lucky you.’ Her red eyes widen, as she pushes a strand of her snow-white hair from her lips. ‘What’s it like?’

      ‘It’s pink.’ I take a bite from my sandwich. The tuna paste is sticky on the bread. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, my mouth full.

      ‘I only got a watch when I was ten.’

      ‘That’s nice too,’ I tell her, but she just shrugs.

      There are two of them, working their way over towards us. Two girls from the year below, their hair in identical bunches on their heads. They look behind them briefly, but keep walking.

      Jennifer stares at them as they stand in front of us. I’ve never spoken to them before and I don’t know what they want. I pick at a piece of bread that’s stuck at the top of my mouth.

      ‘We’ve got you a birthday present,’ the blonde one says. She’s smiling, as though she means it. But this feels wrong.

      The smaller one thrusts a paper napkin towards me. There’s something wrapped inside.

      ‘Thank you,’ I say, although my breath feels heavy. I don’t want to look up to see who’s watching. I’m going to just play along with their game, so they can’t beat me.

      I hold my head high as I peel back the napkin. One of the girls screams and they both run away.

      The goldfish is lying dead. The perfect circle of its eye stares up towards the sky. Its tiny mouth is open in a desperate pout.

      They killed it, just for me.

      ‘Fishy!’ The shout stumbles across the playground. I knew Ryan had been behind it. I won’t look up. Instead, I wrap the dead fish back up and put it gently in my bag.

      Miss Hawthorne is standing by the door and she stops me when I go in.

      ‘June, I need a quick word.’ I wait outside the classroom as she settles everyone down. The walls of the corridor are very white, as if I’m in a tube of light.

      ‘Right,’ she says, clicking the door shut. ‘I need to look in your bag.’

      ‘Why?’ I ask.

      ‘Some of the children have told me that you’ve done something you shouldn’t have.’

      My stomach feels heavy. I had only kept the fish because I’d wanted to bury it. It hadn’t felt right to throw it in the bin. Not when it’s died for me.

      Miss Hawthorne doesn’t have to look for long. She picks out the paper napkin with the soft fish inside.

      ‘Why?’ she asks me. Her voice is gentle. She’s not angry.

      ‘It wasn’t me,’ I tell her. But she just shakes her head.

      ‘A lot of the children saw you do it. They’re very upset.’

      ‘It wasn’t me,’ I whisper.

      ‘Lying will only make it worse.’ There’s such disappointment in her voice that it almost makes me cry.

      ‘I’m not lying,’ I say, but I can tell by her eyes that she doesn’t believe me.

      ‘I’ve got no choice. I’ve got to take you to Mr Cleadon.’

      I nod at her. It’s easier this way.

      I feel so alone, even though Miss Hawthorne walks beside me. I thought I could trust her. I thought one day I’d even tell her about Kathleen and she’d save me. But now I know she never will.

      I look outside the windows as we walk. The clouds look like a pixie, but it’s hard to see, because soon we’re gone.

      ‘Close your eyes,’ Kathleen says. Megan and I have barely walked through the door when she’s fussing around us, taking our bags and coats and hanging them up.

      She stands behind me and covers my eyes with her hands.

      ‘Walk forward,’ she says, so I shuffle in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Ta-da!’ She takes her hands away.

      The table is covered in birthday food. There’s jelly and sandwiches and cookies. And, in the middle, an enormous, round chocolate cake, dotted with sweets.

      Megan seems confused as she looks at Kathleen.

      ‘It’s her birthday, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Have a look at the cake. I made it myself,’ she smiles.

      I step towards it. There’s a new tablecloth, and balloons tied to the chairs.

      ‘What do you say?’ Kathleen says.

      ‘Thank you,’ I reply.

      ‘Come on, let’s light these and take a photo.’

      She holds a match to all ten candles. It’s my cake and it’s beautiful.

      ‘Blow them out and look at me and smile.’

      I puff out my cheeks and my smile is real as I look at the candles and blow out the flames into little streaks of smoke.

      ‘Let’s tuck in, then.’

      We all sit down.

      ‘There’s fizzy juice too.’ She smiles, pointing to my cup.

      ‘Thank you,’ I say.

      ‘Let’s start with the cake.’ She cuts a big slice and tips it on to the plate, then passes it to me. ‘Don’t wait for us.’

      I hesitate with my fork, but it’s too tempting. Chocolate cream oozes out between the sponge. The taste makes the world feel better.

      ‘It’s a good one,’ Kathleen laughs as she eats a mouthful. And it is. Mouthful after mouthful is delicious, until my plate is empty.

      Kathleen puts another slice on my plate. I look up at her and she nods at me. Maybe this is the day she changes. Maybe she’ll put her arms round me and say she really does love me and she’s sorry. I smile back.