Page 263 of Hide and Keep

As nice a memory as that may be, there are some glaring issues with it. Ever’s mom was troubled. Nothing that she’s shared so far sounds normal. I know some wealthy people “summer” other places, but leaving their own kids behind to do it? I’ve never heard of that shit before. Also, what adult never takes a turn being “it”?

“It doesn’t sound like you’re to blame for her death at all. It sounds like she was incredibly selfish.”

Her face loses some of its shine.

“She had an incredible daughter that she had absolutely nothing to do with except when it benefitted her. That’s not a parent, Ever, that’s a narcissist.” The same could be said about Arthur. Actually, I’ll say it—Arthur’s not a parent. He’s a narcissist. “If Alette Munreaux really did kill herself, that was about her, too. Not you.”

“She didn’t stay for me though.”

“Doesn’t make it any more your fault than that butterfly’s death does.” I nod at her hands.

“Doesn’t make it any less sad either,” she repeats my words.

“No, it doesn’t.” Coming to terms with the fact that Yasmin’s death wasn’t my fault hasn’t made the loss any less sad for me, or in general. Loss is tragic, no matter what the circumstances are.

While Ever disposes of the butterfly, I take a seat on the bench by the pond. Feeling eyes on me, I look down to find one of the orange fishes staring up at me, its mouth in an expectant O at the surface. We hold a bit of a staring contest until a white butterfly with orange wing tips enters my vision. It lands on my thigh, so I try not to make any sudden movements.

I’ve never had a butterfly on me. It’s kinda cool. They look so small and fragile yet fly out in the open, leaving themselves open to a number of dangers, then will land in precarious places like a grown man.

Reminds me of my flyer.

I watch as she returns.

“I think your fish is hungry,” I tell her.

Ever mutters something about it always being hungry, then flits around, checking on things, before disappearing into a small back room. A minute later, she’s back with a tub of what appear to be pellets.

As soon as she approaches the pond,allthe fish swarm to her, their mouths open and waiting.

She tosses some of the pellets in, chuckling when the fish splash in their fight to get food.

Holding out the bucket to me, she offers to let me feed them, but I shake my head, more invested in watching her.

“Great orange tip,” she says, nodding at the butterfly on my leg and setting the bucket by her feet.

Even though she didn’t have the greatest examples of caretakers, Ever still became one herself. Her bats, her fish, her butterflies—Ever cares for them all, deeply. But only when she’s out of the public eye.

In the public eye, she’s nothing like this. It’s like all those designer clothes are her costumes to support her role.

Costumes…

My butterfly’s costume at Hide and Keep was elaborate. She even had contacts in. And a mask. The makeup and wig looked like professionals applied them.

None of that is unusual for Hide and Keep. Some people go all out. And plenty of them want to keep their identities hidden.

But my butterfly went the extra mile to ensure she couldn’t be identified. She didn’t even speak.

Who would want to do that?

Who wouldneedto do that?

A girl who can’t be herself around her own friends? A girl so known, she can’t go anywhere without being recognized? A girl disobeying her powerful father’s orders by sneaking out?

My butterfly was short and petite.

So is my little bat.

My butterfly was daring but in an inexperienced way.

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