She takes a step back. “Lead the way.”
Rooney and I are at a standoff. Butterfly Lady doesn’t notice.
“Okay, sure,” I finally agree, jogging to catch up to the woman. I’m a few steps ahead of Rooney, keeping an eye on her in my peripheral vision.
We’re guided into an arched greenhouse and then left to explore on our own.
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Rooney asks the Butterfly Lady.
“I’m simply here to welcome people into the event. Enjoy!” she says, closing the door behind her.
Rooney stays close behind me. I feel her breathing on my upper arm.
“I am not used to this air density,” I say, turning around to face her.
“Did you say destiny?” Rooney asks, circling me and staying close.
“Density. What are you doing? Why are you so close to me?” I ask, taking her by the shoulders and guiding her a step back.
She looks on the ground behind her before putting a foot down. “Sorry! I didn’t realize I was too close.”
“Nottooclose,” I mumble, “just… close.”
She tiptoes over to a bench, keeping her body compact.
“What’s all this?” I ask. “Why are you crouched?”
“I don’t want to step on a butterfly,” she says. A monarch butterfly whizzes past us. Rooney yelps and ducks, grabbing for my waist.
“Are you… scared of butterflies?” I ask, looking down at her face near my stomach.
Rooney looks up. “Are you talking to me?”
“Nope. I’m talking to the other person attached to me.”
Rooney straightens. “Oh, no. I’m cool. Just wanted to feel what that felt like,” she says awkwardly, moving her fingers around animatedly. “It’s nice and tight.”
I cross my arms. “If you’re so scared of butterflies,” I say, more entertained than I intend, “then why did you come in here?”
“This is me saying yes. Fate Test 1. Check,” she says with a pained smile. A bright orange monarch flies by her head. She lifts her shoulders up to her ears, as if to protect the vulnerable parts of her neck.
“What is it about them that terrifies you so much?”
She blinks a couple of times as though she’s piecing together her thoughts. “They’re erratic. They fly without any sense of direction. That one almost ran into me!” Rooney hugs herself. “Some look like they have eyes on their wings. They’re insects that can land wherever they want. I’ve only seen a butterfly once in New York City and that’s when it followed me down an entire avenue. Pretty sure he had it out for me.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Okay, come closer.”
She takes a step toward me. I pull her in the rest of the way until we’re inches apart. “Stay near me. Any butterfly that tries to mess with you has to get through me first.”
She shakily laughs.
“I’ll do it, too,” I say sternly. “I’ll fight a butterfly.”
This makes her laugh harder. And for the first time in my life, I think I really would wrestle a butterfly if it meant she felt safe.
“Butterflies are actually in control of how they move,” I explain. “They bob and weave to trick predators. Their flight path is unpredictable on purpose. That does make it feel like a butterfly’s wings are going to slap you in the face. But their control means their survival.”
“So what you’re saying is they won’t run into me?”
