Pop.

The tough, cloth board bound in a wooden frame made a tearing pop noise as Thomas watched his mother stick a pin through a dead butterfly's wing. It was a monarch, common in late September, that his younger sister, Jenna, had found in the yard. Jenna insisted it was already dead, lying stiff and lifeless among the flowers near the swing set.

He watched with a mixture of amusement and mild cringe as his five-year-old sister pranced around in her butterfly wings, occasionally peeking over their mom’s shoulders while she worked. She was obsessed with the insect, to the point where she would eagerly spout out random facts about them to anyone who would listen (and even those who wouldn’t). To Thomas, it could sometimes be a bit overwhelming. Even her room was a shrine to all things butterfly - every surface adorned with framed photos, posters, and plush toys.

She was always so delighted when one would land on her. Cradling the fragile thing in her hands, she would giggle as it crawled from finger to finger before inevitably fluttering away. Thomas couldn’t help but roll his eyes at her antics; he couldn’t understand why she was so infatuated with these winged insects. In fact, like most bugs, he had no interest in them at all -if they got too close, he would just swat them away without a second thought.

The deep-rooted obsession began in the early years of her life, around the tender age of two or three. It all started with a simple encounter – a little blue butterfly landing on her tiny, upturned nose. From that moment on, her fascination spiraled into an all-consuming infatuation. She even created an imaginary friend, one she called “The Butterfly Maiden”.

The Butterfly Maiden was a relatively newer edition, with Jenna mentioning her for the first time around a month ago now. The Maiden only visits at night, she would say. And when she appeared, she was always accompanied by butterflies that, in Jenna's words, were “always different colors, like a rainbow.” Thomas rolled his eyes at the thought. He was so over butterflies.

Bringing the dead thing inside, Jenna showed their mother, who smiled and began pointing out coloring and stripes and whatever else. Their mother shared Jenna’s love for butterflies, (though on a more sane level) and whenever they found dead ones, especially ones they didn’t have, they enthusiastically started the preservation and pinning process. Seeing it as a waste of time, Thomas was constantly annoyed by this. Why play with dead things when video games existed? At least those were fun.

So he watched in boredom, as any normal ten year old would, as the two pinned the monarch, then sat it in the sun to dry for “two days.” Their mother warned Jenna not to touch the butterfly during this process, but Jenna was five, and that meant that she would, as she always did, disregard her mother and touch the butterfly.

And nearly a day later, Jenna had done just that. Thomas had just stepped into the kitchen, fully focused on making himself a bowl of cereal, when he stumbled upon his little sister in the act. She quickly hid the frame behind her back.

“Jenna,” Thomas began. “Mom said you weren’t supposed to touch the butterfly. You’re gonna mess it up again.”

“Am not!” she huffed. Her face scrunched up. “And I didn’t even touch it!” she backed up until she bumped into the wall, her hands still behind her back.

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Put it down or I’m gonna tell mom.”

“But I didn’t touch it!” she snapped.

Thomas approached Jenna. In an attempt to snatch the frame away, he reached behind her and tried to wrestle it out of her grip. Jenna’s cries of “no” went unheard as Thomas firmly gripped her arm and reached for the frame. He couldn’t stand how Jenna constantly acted like a brat. She got away with everything.

“Hand it over,” Thomas snarled, his teeth clenched tightly. In a strong motion, he forcefully yanked his sister’s arm, causing her to cry out and accidentally drop the frame. It fell to the ground, and both siblings gazed at it briefly before Thomas picked it up and examined it.

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The butterfly was undamaged except for the torn tip of its right wing, caused by an errant pin during the scuffle. Thomas did feel a slight pang of guilt as he looked up at Jenna, tears streaming down her face. But he also felt a sense of satisfaction; If Jenna had simply listened and left it alone, none of this would have happened in the first place.

“I hate you,” Jenna cried before running out of the room.

When their mom found the butterfly later that day, they both pointed fingers at each other.

“Thomas did it!” Jenna had cried. “Thomas dropped it and that’s when the wing broke.” Jenna was crying again.

Thomas’s mom fixed him with a steely gaze as he explained, “Jenna was playing with the frame again. I was trying to make her put it back, but the stupid klutz dropped it.”

“Do not call your sister names,” she said, pointing her finger at him. She looked thoughtful for just a brief moment before adding “no video games today, bring me your game boy.”

“That’s not fair!” Thomas whined. His gaze was filled with anger as he looked at his sister. “It's all her fault.”

She shot Thomas a glare of icy daggers. Lowering his head, he grumbled “It’s called a switch,” as he made his way from the living room to the stairs

Thomas went upstairs and took his Switch from the dock. He plopped down onto his bed, fiddling with the joysticks. It wasn’t fair. Punishing him doesn’t make sense when Jenna was the one at fault for not listening.

“Thomas,” his mom’s voice called from downstairs. “Game boy. Now.”

Frustrated, Thomas stood, letting out a sour grunt, and kicked a basketball. The ball was launched from his room, striking the wall and then rolling down the hallway. Stepping into the hallway, Thomas watched the ball come to a gradual stop in front of Jenna’s room.

“Yes,” came Jenna's squeaky voice. “I think they’re very pretty.” There was silence for a moment before she continued. “Really? I can?” More silence.

It appeared as though she was speaking to someone. Thomas glanced surreptitiously into the pink fitted room through the doorframe. Jenna was seated at a small table, looking out of her open window. The curtains billowed in the light breeze, welcoming the warm glow of dusk.

“You shouldn’t eabse-drop, “Jenna warned, without facing him. “She says it’s rude. And we shouldn’t be rude.”

“Its eavesdrop.” Thomas sneered. He entered her room and glanced around. There wasn’t anyone there. “Who were you talking to?”

Jenna shot him a glare as she turned around. “My friend.”

“No one is there,” Thomas stated bluntly.

“That’s because she left,” she tilted her chin up. “She doesn’t like you. She says your mean to her babies.”

Thomas laughed. “Mean to her babies? Your imaginary friend is as weird as you are.”

“She's not imaginary!” her face scrunched up in frustration. “She's real.”

*******

That night after dinner Thomas lay in his bed. The sun had set by now, and the moon cast a soft glow through the window of his room. Normally, Thomas would be playing his Switch right now, even though he wasn’t supposed too. He never got enough time to actually use the thing, with the “one-hour" time limit on weekdays his mom gave him. But she let him keep it in his room, so he would sneak it at night, stuffing it under his pillow when his mom would check on him.

But Jenna had ruined this for him tonight, like she does with almost everything. Thomas sighed, turning over in bed. Jenna had been “punished” for touching the butterfly with going to bed early. But he had his Switch taken away. It just wasn’t fair.

A giggle tore him away from his brooding. He had left his door open just a crack, as he’d always done, as long as he can remember. A colorful light peeked into his room from the hallway. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the crack of the door.

He wasn’t imagining it. Shifting out of bed, Thomas crept to the open door and slowly pushed it, the hinges squealing slightly. Down a bit and across the hallway, Jenna's door was cracked open. From it shone a prism of light, like a kaleidoscopic disco ball set to maximum intensity.

What was she doing in there? Thomas wondered as he moved down the hallway towards her room at a crawl. When he reached her door, he pushed it open only to be greeted by darkness. Everything in her room appeared to be in order except for two things: The window was open, screen and all just like earlier this evening, and Jenna.

Jenna stood in front of her window, staring out towards the dense forest that lined the edge of their backyard. Her form looked almost ghostly in the light of the pale moon.

“Jenna?”

She didn’t answer. As Thomas grew closer, goosebumps trailed up his arms and spread across his chest. “Jenna?” Thomas tried again. Still, his sister didn’t answer. Instead, an unfamiliar humming thrummed out; quavering, broken up and raspy, barely audible. He reached a hand out, fingers shaking slightly as they brushed against her soft night gown. Grabbing her shoulder, he shook Jenna softly, as if to wake her up. Still, she didn’t budge.

“Jenna!” he shook her hard. Jenna flinched before turning around to face him.

“Wha…?” she murmured sleepily, rubbing at an eye.

Thomas looked at her. He thought about yelling at her for ignoring him, thought about leaving the room, annoyed that she was playing with toys in the middle of the night after she got his Switch taken away. But one look at her, and he softened just a bit. Even in the dark he could see that she wasn’t quite awake.

“Come on,” he said with a sigh, still a bit vexed. “Lets get you back in bed.”