My Butterfly by Laura Miller Page B

right,” I said. “We’ve got Mr. Furballs. Let’s go.”
    I made my first hundred feet up the path without much trouble, even though every once in a while I had to maneuver over a fallen tree limb or carve my on trail through some overgrown weeds.
    “You still okay?” I heard her ask after I had just successfully scaled a pile of brush.
    “Oh,” I said, stopping for a second. “You’re still there?”
    She laughed and tightened her arms around my neck. I felt Furballs press up against my ear as I started up the path again. The truth was my feet were starting to feel heavy and my quads burned like hell, but this was a bet I wasn’t going to lose.
    Finally, I could see the clearing at the top of the bluff. And there were only about a hundred feet to go, but each step was beginning to take everything in me.
    I heard Julia’s soft laughter behind me again.
    “Will,” she said. “I’ll just walk. It’s okay.”
    “No,” I said. “I’m fine. We do hills like this all the time in basketball conditioning.”
    She laughed again.
    “You run up bluffs, Will,” she sarcastically said, “with people on your back?”
    I stopped for a second.
    “Well, we might as well,” I said, trying my best to laugh through the pain.
    I took another labored step. I was only about ten feet away now and feeling every foot. But just then, my shoe caught a root or something, and I tried to catch myself but didn’t have the energy. I stumbled and realized I was heading right for the ground. Seconds later, I heard her scream or laugh or something, and the next thing I knew, we were in a pile in the dirt.
    “Aah,” I sighed, exhaustedly thrusting my head back against the ground. “I almost made it.”
    “What are you talking about?” she asked. “You did make it.”
    I could barely move, but I forced my head out of the dirt and grass and looked up. We were in a clearing, and I could see downtown below us and all its people walking every which way. I must have fallen the rest of the way.
    I met her eyes, and she kissed my lips.
    “Thanks, sweetie,” she said, giving me the most perfect smile.
    I squeezed my arms around her with the little strength I had left, and then I kissed her forehead.
    “Told ya I’d make it,” I proudly said.
    She smiled and playfully rolled her eyes.
    “Did Furballs make it?” I asked.
    I watched as her eyes made a circle around us. Then, eventually, they stopped. And within the next second, she was out of my arms and moving toward the edge of the bluff.
    I slowly pushed myself up from the ground and watched her secure her ugly cat again. She had dirt on the side of her little jean shorts, and I think there was a twig in her hair, but she still looked beautiful. I sat there for another second watching her dust off Furballs. Then, I got up and grabbed the quilt from the ground and made my way back from the edge a little.
    I tossed some twigs and some little rocks out of the way. Then, I stretched the blanket out over the grass and dirt, sat down and caught Jules peering out over the edge.
    This bluff was probably the highest point in town. Down by the river and on this side of the levee, people danced around little, brick buildings and short, narrow streets. The Fourth of July had always brought people downtown. Otherwise, this part of town was pretty quiet, except for maybe when there was a state game playing at the little theater or when the river was extra high and people couldn’t stand not to come out and stare at it.
    And now, even though we were pretty high up and the evening was quickly turning to night, I guessed Jules was still finding things to look at because she had been lost in the scene below us for a good while now. Then again, I guessed she was good at that too—good at always getting lost in little things. Her head seemed as if it were always churning out little thoughts.
    I smiled at the thought and then lowered my eyes and noticed the edge of the quilt sticking up. I leaned