The Butterfly Project

The Butterfly Project: Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The planes arrived to take us the Capital quite quickly. We had to go back on stage first and wave good-bye to everyone before we boarded but Flare said that dumping Jamie would have to wait until when we were in the Capital. I followed her onto the stage before realising that it was the first time that anyone could find out who had which trainers and mentors. Our makeup and costume designer would walk on stage after we said what we needed to. We’d meet her along with everyone else watching across New England. I stood in front of the heated spotlight, feeling rather terrible as I squinted down at everyone. Jamie was stood about two rows from Liam who was with Calyx; I recognised Old Bez, Sariah and the Yehland sisters from the market and herbal courses up at the State’s school. Calyx’s eyes were red from crying, mirroring Liam’s who’d suddenly become remarkably pale. I looked up into the night sky, studying the stars before Mckenzie touched my elbow gently. I was speaking first. My heart pounded against my rib cage and I could have sworn that my blood had doubled in pressure.

 “H-hello,” I said cautiously, surprised at how loud I sounded through the weird piece of technical equipment, “I’m g-going to try m-m-my best at the Theatre... for y-you. All of you.” My voice strengthened slightly, “And I-I’m going to fight for each and e-every one of you. It’s likely it’ll be the l-last thing I do, but at least I’m going to t-try. You need the tokens, the f-food and the tools to make t-this State better... and I’m going to do my best to get them!”

I stepped away from the microphone, rubbing my sweaty hands on my trousers. Mckenzie took my place, acting a lot cooler than I did.

 “If I fall in the Theatre, I’ll die for State 10, I’ll die for the tokens and I’ll die for Ebony. She wants to help you, as I do, and we’ll both fight for our State!” Mckenzie said as the crowd applauded and cheered for his short speech. The Mayor stepped up to the microphone ready to speak but the audience refused to silence until Flare took dramatic measures, snatching the microphone and yelling loudly:

 “And now we can reveal the costume designer...!”  

I waited in complete suspense as the two seconds dragged by from when the audience fell silent and the Mayor pulled someone out from backstage.

 “It’s...” The Mayor began into the microphone, working out the identity of our costume and make up specialist, “Oh my god, it’s Paisley.”

The audience erupted. Simply, they roared with disbelief. We had been awarded the stylist who had created the masterpiece which became President Remo’s first official suit as President. It had been his signature suit ever since. Paisley took my hand, shaking it gently as her eyes began cautiously taking in my scratched fingernails, dusty skin and tangled hair. She sighed, before bustling Mckenzie and I back offstage to board the planes to the Capital.

 “Say good-bye to State 10.” I whispered to Mckenzie, “I know I will be.”

He didn’t reply. He merely sat down next to me; looking over the view of the State we called home. The crowd swarmed the high-tech aircraft that rarely appeared in State 10. Once a year, an identical craft landed in the centre of town, often signalling the beginning of the end for its unlucky passengers – prepared for the Theatre. I’d never imagined that I’d ever be one of them. Sitting here, next to the boy I barely knew who’d probably arrive back with me in another identical plane from the Capital. Sadly, neither of us would be breathing at that point and we’d be sealed in wooden boxes, each marked with a gold butterfly with our name engraved across the wings. It was a standard coffin for the Theatre unfortunates. I’d never understood the design, but after all, the Capital never had been described as ‘normal’.

So many different images flashed through my mind, year after year, as people left faking their smiles and returned sealed away and motionless.

 “What are you thinking?” Mckenzie asked as the plane door was closed. As the lock clicked across, I realised how much difference the door made. The crowd’s yells and cheers and the ignorant clapping of the adults who’d survived without being chosen for the Battle Theatre rang in my ears.

 “Remembering,” I corrected.

 “Really now, what are you remembering?” Mckenzie asked.

 “The others who left and returned from the Battle Theatre, I can’t remember the last person from our State who won.” I sighed.

 “It was West, our mentor.” Mckenzie said, “He won nineteen years ago.”

 “West won when he was thirteen!” I exclaimed, I saw Flare glance back. Mckenzie forced a smile as he scanned my shocked expression.

 “Yeah,” He said simply.

Flare was straight out of her seat as the plane began to rise; she dug her nails anxiously into her cheeks as the sweat stuck her eye-catching hair to her forehead. West patted her cautiously on her left shoulder blade. She closed her eyes, wrinkling up her face as she leant against the curved wall of the plane, desperate for the bizarre rising sensation to stop.

 “Look,” Mckenzie’s words drew my eyes from Flare and out of the window. State 10 looked so small and it was continuously shrinking as we rose higher and higher. Within seconds, the clouds stole our view of home and I went back to studying our mentor, trainer and designer. Flare was staring down at her shoes, gripping her knees. West was at her side, whispering something inaudible to Mckenzie and me – but Paisley seemed quite relaxed as she had obtained a nail file and was concentrating on shaping each one identically. It was a funny sight.

 “Flare’s scared of heights,” I told Mckenzie, “And Paisley is worried about her nail shape. West seems more chilled out than everyone at the moment.”

He nodded. Then he reached into his pocket, cautiously unfolding a photograph. I knew that it was a family photo and I knew that these were only available in certain States. This confirmed his story earlier about his Mother and Father working in State 3, one of the few States with photographical equipment, and also confirmed that they were dead. The picture had long, grey lines across it where it had been repeatedly folded and unfolded over time. The top corner was slightly burnt and the back had the names of his Mother and Father scrawled on in black ink alongside the dates they were born, and identical dates of the day they’d died. All but one of his sisters shared his hair colour – silky black – as did his younger brother who looked around six years old. Mckenzie was silent as he studied the picture.

 “Ebony, can you tell me about your State?” Paisley said quietly to me. “I want to know as much as I can. It’ll help me link your outfit to your home.”

 “Well... we have to use natural resources to make medicines and treatments. Berries, leaves, certain types of tree sap and little jars of dried petals are commonly sold on our market; we have to study them at school too.” I said, not really knowing how to explain State 10, “We form little groups of friends within the community and tend not to mix with many others. Money is scarce so we all work hard and... Uhh...”

I was all out of ideas. All we did was experiment with things we grew and tried to earn enough money to buy food for ourselves. We traded with each other and all respected others’ land. There was rarely crime in State 10, everyone just got on with their own lives.

 “Thank you,” Paisley finished taking notes, “Now tell me. What sort of plant would help me get stronger?”

I answered at once: “Berries. Specifically, Sunset berries.”

 “Thanks, Ebony.” Paisley said quietly, “You’ve been a great help.”

She walked briskly back to her seat, sketching rapidly in her notebook with precise detail. Her tongue poked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated harder and harder on her designs. Flare, who had now recovered slightly, bent over her to see the sketch so far. Paisley grinned and Flare quite happily took a seat, picking up a glass of ice water.

 “Red, like the autumn leaves.” She said.