Butterflies in the Kool-Aid
Elsy Pawelak
It was nearing the end of summer, when the grasshoppers rubbed their legs together at dusk and the rhododendrons blossomed with fervor like beautiful pink fireworks. Haley sat on a tattered chair opposite a folding table, her fingers sticky with the runoff from a red-white-and-blue popsicle. She observed the swirling sugar in the jug of punch settle at the bottom. Mom was in the garden moving in soft, jerky motions while pulling weeds out by the root. Dad was inside, his reactions to the baseball game muffled and audibly displeased.
She picked at her sticky nail beds. School would be starting soon, and she’d be getting a new teacher.
What do you think my new teacher will be like? asked Haley.
I’m not sure, dear, said Mom. The PTA hasn’t met her yet. Apparently she’s coming in from another school.
Visions of paper mâché pilgrims and construction paper turkeys and glue that was bright blue and filled with sparkles fluttered across Haley’s mind. In third grade, their lessons regularly involved art projects. She hoped the same for fourth grade, but the beginning of the school year always made her belly flip. Haley just wanted to prove that she was smart enough, good enough.
Mom pulled up a stubbornly rooted weed and chucked it into the slowly filling bucket next to her. Get excited, she said, don’t you just love school, darling? She had turned around towards Haley, pearly white teeth exposed beneath red lips.
A butterfly haphazardly fluttered around the pitcher of Kool-Aid, hovered above it, and dropped, trapping itself in the syrupy viscosity. Haley tried to fish it out with the stirring spoon, curious at why its flying was so wild.
Leave it, said Mom, walking towards the garage door with the weed bucket. I’ll make more fruit punch, ok?
Staring at the bug’s body, Haley noticed its slowly kicking legs were not all there. A loud yelp sounded from the house. Haley assumed it there had been a home run.
The next few weeks stretched crisply into autumn, and just as Haley was wrapped around proving her aptitude, she was equally wrapped around the new teacher’s finger. She loved how Ms. Jack used blue-colored chalk and taught them about the lifespan of a praying mantis and something new with numbers called division. Ms. Jack cared about what they thought. They were starting a unit on American history soon. Dad said it might be about when they defeated someone he called Nazi-bastards, which Haley hoped was true so she had more to talk to him about.
Ben, her best friend, was in the same classroom as her. They were magnetized to each other, truly glued to the hip. Their trays bumped up next to each other each day at lunch. Haley usually got pizza, and Ben always got a granola bar and chocolate milk. The meager size made Ben’s tray look extra large compared the Haley’s proportional meal.
Why don’t you ever get the pizza or the burger? she asked.
Ben shrugged. The chocolate milk and granola bar are free.
Haley remained silent.
It’s okay though, I like chocolate milk.
She wasn’t sure why his parents didn’t give him lunch money, but she didn’t mind sharing her pizza. It ripped easily, and Ben seemed to like pepperoni more than Haley did.
She picked at her sticky nail beds. School would be starting soon, and she’d be getting a new teacher.
What do you think my new teacher will be like? asked Haley.
I’m not sure, dear, said Mom. The PTA hasn’t met her yet. Apparently she’s coming in from another school.
Visions of paper mâché pilgrims and construction paper turkeys and glue that was bright blue and filled with sparkles fluttered across Haley’s mind. In third grade, their lessons regularly involved art projects. She hoped the same for fourth grade, but the beginning of the school year always made her belly flip. Haley just wanted to prove that she was smart enough, good enough.
Mom pulled up a stubbornly rooted weed and chucked it into the slowly filling bucket next to her. Get excited, she said, don’t you just love school, darling? She had turned around towards Haley, pearly white teeth exposed beneath red lips.
A butterfly haphazardly fluttered around the pitcher of Kool-Aid, hovered above it, and dropped, trapping itself in the syrupy viscosity. Haley tried to fish it out with the stirring spoon, curious at why its flying was so wild.
Leave it, said Mom, walking towards the garage door with the weed bucket. I’ll make more fruit punch, ok?
Staring at the bug’s body, Haley noticed its slowly kicking legs were not all there. A loud yelp sounded from the house. Haley assumed it there had been a home run.
The next few weeks stretched crisply into autumn, and just as Haley was wrapped around proving her aptitude, she was equally wrapped around the new teacher’s finger. She loved how Ms. Jack used blue-colored chalk and taught them about the lifespan of a praying mantis and something new with numbers called division. Ms. Jack cared about what they thought. They were starting a unit on American history soon. Dad said it might be about when they defeated someone he called Nazi-bastards, which Haley hoped was true so she had more to talk to him about.
Ben, her best friend, was in the same classroom as her. They were magnetized to each other, truly glued to the hip. Their trays bumped up next to each other each day at lunch. Haley usually got pizza, and Ben always got a granola bar and chocolate milk. The meager size made Ben’s tray look extra large compared the Haley’s proportional meal.
Why don’t you ever get the pizza or the burger? she asked.
Ben shrugged. The chocolate milk and granola bar are free.
Haley remained silent.
It’s okay though, I like chocolate milk.
She wasn’t sure why his parents didn’t give him lunch money, but she didn’t mind sharing her pizza. It ripped easily, and Ben seemed to like pepperoni more than Haley did.
* * *
They started their new history unit one chilly day in November. Haley and her classmates rose for the pledge of allegiance, facing the red-and-white striped flag dotted with fifty stars on a canvas of blue hanging just above the blackboard. She placed her right hand over her heart and pledged her allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of America with the others.
As they sat down, Ms. Jack began to write something on the board. The chalk showed two words that Haley had never seen together before.
What does being an America mean to you? asked Ms. Jack.
Hands raised around the room. Fireworks. Freedom. Football. Haley guessed that Thanksgiving was about mashed potatoes and family and knew that the Fourth of July was about something called independence and eating hot dogs. She raised her hand too. We’re just the best. Her dad would’ve liked that.
Ms. Jack smiled and turned to the board. Who here has heard of Native Americans? she asked.
Isn’t that what we are? asked Haley.
Ms. Jack looked over her shoulder. I can see how you’d think that, but it’s not quite right. Let’s dig more into that, shall we class?
As they sat down, Ms. Jack began to write something on the board. The chalk showed two words that Haley had never seen together before.
What does being an America mean to you? asked Ms. Jack.
Hands raised around the room. Fireworks. Freedom. Football. Haley guessed that Thanksgiving was about mashed potatoes and family and knew that the Fourth of July was about something called independence and eating hot dogs. She raised her hand too. We’re just the best. Her dad would’ve liked that.
Ms. Jack smiled and turned to the board. Who here has heard of Native Americans? she asked.
Isn’t that what we are? asked Haley.
Ms. Jack looked over her shoulder. I can see how you’d think that, but it’s not quite right. Let’s dig more into that, shall we class?
* * *
Dinner was Haley’s favorite part of the day. Dad had rotated the TV in the kitchen to face the table and was drinking a can decorated in red and blue cursive. Mom was grabbing plates. Tonight’s dinner was some sort of casserole with stretchy cheese and noodle masses that fell wetly with each scoop. Two cartoonish voices echoed harshly out of the television’s little speakers, which Dad was watching raptly.
Turn off the television, hon. said Mom. They’ll show the debates again later.
He did. The casserole steamed in front of their faces as Mom asked Haley about school.
Excitedly, Haley began talking about their new history studies. Dad set his silverware down to listen because, she assumed, he was just as interested as she was. Mom furrowed her brow as her chewing slowed to a less-than normal pace. Haley wasn’t sure what she had said, because they ate the rest of the meal in silence. Her mother placed her hand on her father’s. Haley could feel her confusion trapped between their hands.
Turn off the television, hon. said Mom. They’ll show the debates again later.
He did. The casserole steamed in front of their faces as Mom asked Haley about school.
Excitedly, Haley began talking about their new history studies. Dad set his silverware down to listen because, she assumed, he was just as interested as she was. Mom furrowed her brow as her chewing slowed to a less-than normal pace. Haley wasn’t sure what she had said, because they ate the rest of the meal in silence. Her mother placed her hand on her father’s. Haley could feel her confusion trapped between their hands.
* * *
Haley was careful not to move any further than the railing that separated the staircase from the bottom floor. Their voices were hushed, skating over the tinny sound of the commercials in the living room. She could hear only snippets: Not right. Too progressive. PTA. Call the school. She slowly crept back up to her room and drew the covers up and over her head, wondering what had gone wrong, and if it was her fault.
* * *
Whatever tenseness was in the walls of home had evaporated by morning, and Haley went into class thinking of the lessons ahead. Ms. Jack continued what they had started, and now Haley had a few answers and a field trip permission slip to visit the small Native American museum downtown. She folded it up with fearful fingers at what Mom and Dad would say, shoving it into her folder.
This was forgotten by recess. Usually Haley and Ben would set their sights on the tetherball court, but Ben had just gotten a new gaming system. They plotted, crowns of their heads touching, over the manual that he had brought out during recess. His dad had bought him some game with a purple and gold dragon that collected coins. She had never seen something that looked so realistic before, like a cartoon come to life.
Do you want to come over after school and play? asked Ben.
Obviously the answer was yes. While they waited in their class line to come back inside, Haley overheard someone saying that their parents had called the school about the new history lesson. Haley wondered if her mom did too.
Haley couldn’t wait to ask Mom about playing at Ben’s. She plopped her backpack by the stairs and ran into the kitchen to the noises of something blending. She hoped for cookies and imagined eating them with Ben while they took turns with the new gaming system.
Can I go over to Ben’s house?
Mom looked up from the blue, shiny blender. Ben? Which one is Ben, hon.
Haley described his cropped black hair and tan skin and how his favorite dinosaur was a stegosaurus. She knew Mom knew Ben. Haley talked about him all the time.
Mom busied herself with the blender. No dear, I don’t want you going over there.
Why not?
The blender whirring stopped as Mom clicked it off and came over, pulling her into a warm hug. She smelled like vanilla and sugar.
They’re not…patriots, Haley.
Haley felt herself frown. But Mom, they’re from New Hampshire.
The sigh that came out of Mom moved Haley rhythmically forward. Just because Ben has an American name, doesn’t mean that he is one. She pulled Haley away and looked down at her. We’re known for being a place of opportunity, some people take advantage of that, like Ben’s family. Some people just don’t know how to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. America is for everyone, but only if they work hard.
Haley wondered how he wasn’t American if he was from New Hampshire.
Besides, every time you go over there you stink so bad I have to wash your clothes.
This was forgotten by recess. Usually Haley and Ben would set their sights on the tetherball court, but Ben had just gotten a new gaming system. They plotted, crowns of their heads touching, over the manual that he had brought out during recess. His dad had bought him some game with a purple and gold dragon that collected coins. She had never seen something that looked so realistic before, like a cartoon come to life.
Do you want to come over after school and play? asked Ben.
Obviously the answer was yes. While they waited in their class line to come back inside, Haley overheard someone saying that their parents had called the school about the new history lesson. Haley wondered if her mom did too.
Haley couldn’t wait to ask Mom about playing at Ben’s. She plopped her backpack by the stairs and ran into the kitchen to the noises of something blending. She hoped for cookies and imagined eating them with Ben while they took turns with the new gaming system.
Can I go over to Ben’s house?
Mom looked up from the blue, shiny blender. Ben? Which one is Ben, hon.
Haley described his cropped black hair and tan skin and how his favorite dinosaur was a stegosaurus. She knew Mom knew Ben. Haley talked about him all the time.
Mom busied herself with the blender. No dear, I don’t want you going over there.
Why not?
The blender whirring stopped as Mom clicked it off and came over, pulling her into a warm hug. She smelled like vanilla and sugar.
They’re not…patriots, Haley.
Haley felt herself frown. But Mom, they’re from New Hampshire.
The sigh that came out of Mom moved Haley rhythmically forward. Just because Ben has an American name, doesn’t mean that he is one. She pulled Haley away and looked down at her. We’re known for being a place of opportunity, some people take advantage of that, like Ben’s family. Some people just don’t know how to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. America is for everyone, but only if they work hard.
Haley wondered how he wasn’t American if he was from New Hampshire.
Besides, every time you go over there you stink so bad I have to wash your clothes.
* * *
Mom took Haley to the supermarket the following afternoon for their weekly groceries. She let Haley steer the cart down the aisles as they picked up things like bread and ground beef. Margarine. Yellow mustard. Kool-Aid. Haley was allowed to pick out some ice cream and looked at her choices while Mom busied herself with the frozen waffles. When she shut the freezer door, she noticed Ben and his father walking towards them down the aisle.
In a fit of not knowing how to behave, Haley clutched the ice cream closely to her chest. Frost began to form on the carton as the cardboard became both stiff and pliable underneath the warmth of her hands.
Ben smiled and waved at the sight of her. Rocky Road is my favorite too, Ben said.
Hi Haley, how are you? asked Ben’s dad. Just picking out ice cream. Do you want some too?
Haley thought of sharing her pizza. We can buy you some, she said.
Ben’s dad tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.
Haley suddenly felt Mom’s strong, soft hands on her shoulders, squeezing slightly.
It’s okay, I think we can manage, said Ben’s dad.
Are you sure you can afford it? asked Haley.
Mom’s hands squeezed tighter, and Ben’s dad shifted. Mom let out a soft chuckle and said something that sounded between sorry and kids. Haley could see Ben’s face getting increasingly redder as his eyes became glassy. He looked down, teardrops hitting the floor. He was no longer smiling.
Ben’s dad looked angry, sad. I wonder where she got that idea.
Mom grabbed Haley’s hand and the cart, steering them wordlessly away. As they turned the corner, she saw Ben’s dad rub Ben’s back, bend down, and give him a quick kiss on the head.
In a fit of not knowing how to behave, Haley clutched the ice cream closely to her chest. Frost began to form on the carton as the cardboard became both stiff and pliable underneath the warmth of her hands.
Ben smiled and waved at the sight of her. Rocky Road is my favorite too, Ben said.
Hi Haley, how are you? asked Ben’s dad. Just picking out ice cream. Do you want some too?
Haley thought of sharing her pizza. We can buy you some, she said.
Ben’s dad tilted his head, his eyes narrowing.
Haley suddenly felt Mom’s strong, soft hands on her shoulders, squeezing slightly.
It’s okay, I think we can manage, said Ben’s dad.
Are you sure you can afford it? asked Haley.
Mom’s hands squeezed tighter, and Ben’s dad shifted. Mom let out a soft chuckle and said something that sounded between sorry and kids. Haley could see Ben’s face getting increasingly redder as his eyes became glassy. He looked down, teardrops hitting the floor. He was no longer smiling.
Ben’s dad looked angry, sad. I wonder where she got that idea.
Mom grabbed Haley’s hand and the cart, steering them wordlessly away. As they turned the corner, she saw Ben’s dad rub Ben’s back, bend down, and give him a quick kiss on the head.
* * *
Ben and Haley stopped playing together at school after the grocery store incident. This would have been more obvious but with the Thanksgiving and winter holidays that quickly disrupted her time at school, Haley became more and more distanced from Ben.
The frost of February softened into spring, and Amanda, a transfer student from a nearby elementary, was added to her class. Haley and Amanda hit it off right away, playing hopscotch and MASH and talking about what they’d do when they got their periods. It’s supposed to be a big deal, Amanda said. That’s when you get boobs. It wasn’t long before Amanda invited Haley over to play, which Mom approved of wholeheartedly.
Amanda’s house was nicer than Haley’s, brand new. She wondered if that’s why Mom ended up staying to chat with Ms. Coleman or if it was the bottle of wine she brought out. She wasn’t used to seeing Mom drink anything besides coffee. Ms. Coleman made the girls something white and tropical tasting, which Amanda said was “mystery flavor.” Haley had never had anything quite this delicious before, and the hot little doughy pizza bites that she made were new too.
It wasn’t just the house and “mystery flavor” and pizza bites that were more novel about Amanda’s house, but the room. They had an entire room dedicated to playing, something Haley could never have imagined if she hadn’t seen it herself. Ms. Coleman was apparently some sort of lawyer, a good one, Amanda had said, and she liked having a separate room for loudness away from the study. There was a folding table with a computer and several CD-ROM games, a small television hooked up to a video game box, bean bag chairs, a dollhouse, and a play kitchenette. Ms. Coleman had left some old lipsticks and eyeshadows, which the girls turned over in their hands with glee.
The lipstick felt dry and cakey as Amanda smeared it onto Haley’s lips. It was red and looked glossier than it felt when she examined herself in a small, handheld mirror.
Do you like it?
It made Haley feel grown up. Yes, I really really really do.
Do you want me to do your eyeshadow too?
There was blue, brown, and a holographic loose glitter. They both decided that blue was the cutest. The brush tickled her eyelids. Little bits of the shadow flaked onto Haley’s cheeks as Amanda brushed it on, unable to make it as deeply blue as the powder itself. She took her time, telling Haley all about how her father had divorced her mother and had a separate, secret family, but, being a lawyer, her mother wasn’t too concerned about him leaving. It’s why they moved in the first place, why she was new to Haley’s elementary. Something about different school district lines.
I have a brother too. Josh. He’s a total bonehead.
Is that bad? asked Haley.
Amanda giggled and nodded.
I’ve always wanted a sister.
I’ll be your sister, if you want, said Amanda.
Haley did her first sisterly task and did Amanda’s makeup so they’d be matching.
Do you want to meet Josh? asked Amanda.
Haley hadn’t met many older boys before. His room was just down the hall, past so many doors that Haley wondered why a family of three would need so much room.
She could smell Josh before she even saw him; a quizzical blend of sweat and something that was not quite soap and not quite perfume created a thick, seeping stench barrier along the door. It wasn’t Josh she saw first. An image of a woman tacked to the wall stared out at Haley, round breasts hidden by one perfectly positioned hand with the same square nails that Ms. Coleman had. The black and white nature of the picture gave a sophisticated sheen to something she knew Mom would find cheap. Most strikingly, the only color in the photo was the jeans she wore, faded and blue.
You must be Mandy’s new friend. What’s up, said Josh.
Amanda punched him in the shoulder, but it was obvious that he felt very little of her tiny fist. She hated being called Mandy. This must be a sibling thing, thought Haley. She suddenly felt stupid. Seeing Josh made the makeup sitting on her face feel cakey and obvious. The tips of his hair were brushed with blonde and his clothes were seemingly two sizes too big. He made Haley’s stomach feel funny, so she glanced around the room, looking hard at the posters. There were others besides the woman. An American flag with a row of several bikini-clad women straddling motorcycles. A distorted, bulbous face smoking a cigarette and wearing yellow glasses with writing that looked like it was drawn in blood. A yellow and green and blue poster of mushrooms covered in felt. Haley reached out to touch the soft poster.
It glows in the dark with my black light. Josh’s voice was deep and it made Haley want to hear him say more.
Wanna see? he asked.
Haley felt her face grow hot. Amanda grabbed her hand and led them from the room and back down to the makeup and computer. Josh must’ve bored her, thought Haley.
When Haley got home, she made a beeline for her gel pens and grabbed some printer paper, drawing little stick figures of her and Amanda.
Ms. Coleman had invited Haley to join them in the summertime to go camping. Haley didn’t even have to beg Mom to let her go.
I love going to Amanda’s, Haley said as Mom tucked her into bed.
The Colemans are lovely, aren’t they hon? You made a good friend there.
Haley felt proud, a giddiness in her new, sisterly bond. Mom kissed her on the forehead and turned on the nightlight before leaving her in the dark.
Haley’s fantasies couldn’t form quickly enough. She imagined Amanda and her lighting fireworks, lazing on rafts on the lake, telling stories around the fire. She imagined they’d find sticks and stab marshmallows on them, melting and charring the fluff before sliding them between chocolate and graham. She imagined them picking out new swimsuits, her first two-piece. She imagined kissing Josh. The butterflies in her stomach were giddy.
An image of Ben crying in the supermarket shifted into her view. The butterflies in her chest folded inward, cocooning, as she turned over in bed. They were heavy, sinking, and uncomfortable additions to her warmth. She wanted to fly far, far away.
The frost of February softened into spring, and Amanda, a transfer student from a nearby elementary, was added to her class. Haley and Amanda hit it off right away, playing hopscotch and MASH and talking about what they’d do when they got their periods. It’s supposed to be a big deal, Amanda said. That’s when you get boobs. It wasn’t long before Amanda invited Haley over to play, which Mom approved of wholeheartedly.
Amanda’s house was nicer than Haley’s, brand new. She wondered if that’s why Mom ended up staying to chat with Ms. Coleman or if it was the bottle of wine she brought out. She wasn’t used to seeing Mom drink anything besides coffee. Ms. Coleman made the girls something white and tropical tasting, which Amanda said was “mystery flavor.” Haley had never had anything quite this delicious before, and the hot little doughy pizza bites that she made were new too.
It wasn’t just the house and “mystery flavor” and pizza bites that were more novel about Amanda’s house, but the room. They had an entire room dedicated to playing, something Haley could never have imagined if she hadn’t seen it herself. Ms. Coleman was apparently some sort of lawyer, a good one, Amanda had said, and she liked having a separate room for loudness away from the study. There was a folding table with a computer and several CD-ROM games, a small television hooked up to a video game box, bean bag chairs, a dollhouse, and a play kitchenette. Ms. Coleman had left some old lipsticks and eyeshadows, which the girls turned over in their hands with glee.
The lipstick felt dry and cakey as Amanda smeared it onto Haley’s lips. It was red and looked glossier than it felt when she examined herself in a small, handheld mirror.
Do you like it?
It made Haley feel grown up. Yes, I really really really do.
Do you want me to do your eyeshadow too?
There was blue, brown, and a holographic loose glitter. They both decided that blue was the cutest. The brush tickled her eyelids. Little bits of the shadow flaked onto Haley’s cheeks as Amanda brushed it on, unable to make it as deeply blue as the powder itself. She took her time, telling Haley all about how her father had divorced her mother and had a separate, secret family, but, being a lawyer, her mother wasn’t too concerned about him leaving. It’s why they moved in the first place, why she was new to Haley’s elementary. Something about different school district lines.
I have a brother too. Josh. He’s a total bonehead.
Is that bad? asked Haley.
Amanda giggled and nodded.
I’ve always wanted a sister.
I’ll be your sister, if you want, said Amanda.
Haley did her first sisterly task and did Amanda’s makeup so they’d be matching.
Do you want to meet Josh? asked Amanda.
Haley hadn’t met many older boys before. His room was just down the hall, past so many doors that Haley wondered why a family of three would need so much room.
She could smell Josh before she even saw him; a quizzical blend of sweat and something that was not quite soap and not quite perfume created a thick, seeping stench barrier along the door. It wasn’t Josh she saw first. An image of a woman tacked to the wall stared out at Haley, round breasts hidden by one perfectly positioned hand with the same square nails that Ms. Coleman had. The black and white nature of the picture gave a sophisticated sheen to something she knew Mom would find cheap. Most strikingly, the only color in the photo was the jeans she wore, faded and blue.
You must be Mandy’s new friend. What’s up, said Josh.
Amanda punched him in the shoulder, but it was obvious that he felt very little of her tiny fist. She hated being called Mandy. This must be a sibling thing, thought Haley. She suddenly felt stupid. Seeing Josh made the makeup sitting on her face feel cakey and obvious. The tips of his hair were brushed with blonde and his clothes were seemingly two sizes too big. He made Haley’s stomach feel funny, so she glanced around the room, looking hard at the posters. There were others besides the woman. An American flag with a row of several bikini-clad women straddling motorcycles. A distorted, bulbous face smoking a cigarette and wearing yellow glasses with writing that looked like it was drawn in blood. A yellow and green and blue poster of mushrooms covered in felt. Haley reached out to touch the soft poster.
It glows in the dark with my black light. Josh’s voice was deep and it made Haley want to hear him say more.
Wanna see? he asked.
Haley felt her face grow hot. Amanda grabbed her hand and led them from the room and back down to the makeup and computer. Josh must’ve bored her, thought Haley.
When Haley got home, she made a beeline for her gel pens and grabbed some printer paper, drawing little stick figures of her and Amanda.
Ms. Coleman had invited Haley to join them in the summertime to go camping. Haley didn’t even have to beg Mom to let her go.
I love going to Amanda’s, Haley said as Mom tucked her into bed.
The Colemans are lovely, aren’t they hon? You made a good friend there.
Haley felt proud, a giddiness in her new, sisterly bond. Mom kissed her on the forehead and turned on the nightlight before leaving her in the dark.
Haley’s fantasies couldn’t form quickly enough. She imagined Amanda and her lighting fireworks, lazing on rafts on the lake, telling stories around the fire. She imagined they’d find sticks and stab marshmallows on them, melting and charring the fluff before sliding them between chocolate and graham. She imagined them picking out new swimsuits, her first two-piece. She imagined kissing Josh. The butterflies in her stomach were giddy.
An image of Ben crying in the supermarket shifted into her view. The butterflies in her chest folded inward, cocooning, as she turned over in bed. They were heavy, sinking, and uncomfortable additions to her warmth. She wanted to fly far, far away.
Elsy Pawelak is an American writer living in Edinburgh. Her first novel, Charlie, was selected by Gutter magazine's "Finish Your First Novel" workshops and will be completed in the coming year. Her short story, “My Fiancé, the Elvis Impersonator” was published in From Arthur’s Seat in 2024. She is currently developing a PhD proposal that focuses on the ways generational trauma in horror novels is exemplified through non-reliable narrators and non-linear storylines.