The Knife and the Butterfly (21 page)

Authors: Ashley Hope Pérez

First I draw Lexi. Her face is angry but also afraid. Like she was losing everything at the same time as me, like the knife between us was changing everything for her, too. The sketch is in gray because all I’ve got is pencil, but in my mind I see color. The red of her shirt and the fleck of blood on her lip, the grass in clumps of scorched brown, the shiny blue of Eddie’s football jersey.

Then I draw Lexi’s knife, but as my pencil flies over the page, the knife comes out different. The double blades tilt up and spread into wings like some kind of crazy street butterfly. The same thing happens when I try to draw chains and pipes and bricks and knives into the hands of my homeboys in the field. The weapons all turn into butterflies. My boys are surprised, pissed even, but they start to look up into the sky as those butterflies get away from them. Maybe somehow that means they’re thinking of me. Not the me that’s lying on the sidewalk with Eddie grabbing my shirt, his hands shiny with my blood. Not that split-open body, but the me that’s already gone from it. Maybe my boys will think of me as they feel their hands go empty. Maybe they’ll give up on the rumble. Or maybe they’ll just think,
shit
, and start fighting with their fists.

I’m drawing so fast now that my hand aches. Then the ache starts to melt away into something else, an even bigger pain throbbing from the center of me. It turns out that being dead is a lot like being alive—the harder you think about it the less it makes sense.

So I draw. I draw without worrying about what difference it’ll make; I draw because the pencil is in my hand. I draw, and I feel all the Azzs I’ve been, all my choices nested together inside me like the layers of an onion. My pencil is flying because that’s how it is: you choose and you choose and you choose, and that’s your life. That’s what you are.

Lexi and me, we’re not that different. I picture her buying the knife, and I know just how it is. You take that knife like it’s nothing. You choose the knife, but you always figure that you’ve got time left to choose the butterfly later.

The pencil is still in my hand, but I’m not drawing anymore. The scene is just about finished. We’re all there—Lexi, me, Eddie, Pelón, all the others. Stupid as shit, but alive and free under these clouds of butterflies.

As I stare at the drawing, time changes from something that moves to something that’s pressing in on me hard, holding me still. It’s getting harder and harder to move. All I do is blink, but it takes forever for my eyes to open again. The moment stretches on and on. I close my eyes again, and the cell disappears, not just out of sight for a second, but erased by darkness. Darkness and a throbbing silence. No knives, no butterflies.

Somehow I know that this dark stillness could be it for me. It’s not so bad, kind of calm and safe. But to break free, to climb out and see what’s next, that’s something, too. I make one final effort, open my eyes, and sign my name to the last page in my book.

I let go of the pencil, and my eyelids fall shut. The darkness isn’t so heavy now. I think I smell cinnamon. Cinnamon, and something sharp and clean. Spray paint? I don’t know for sure, but maybe being out of pages doesn’t mean I’m done making a mark.

EPILOGUE

SURPRISE COURTROOM CONFESSION IN ALLEN TRIAL

September 27, 2011

Houston, TX – Yesterday’s surprise on-thestand confession from 17-year-old Alexis Allen stunned listeners in the courtroom—including her own attorney.

Allen is on trial for the June 11 murder of Martín “Azael” Arevalo, a 15-year-old member of the gang MS-13. Although Allen admitted to stabbing Arevalo at the time of her arrest, her counsel has maintained that she acted in self-defense.

But when defense attorney Lucas VanVeldt asked her to describe what happened the day of the stabbing, Allen apparently broke from the script. After a lengthy pause, with her eyes shut tightly and her hands clasped as if in prayer, Allen said, “I knew what I was doing when I stabbed Azael. He wasn’t trying to hurt me when I did it. He wasn’t even holding the bat.”

Even as her own lawyer was objecting to her testimony, Allen continued her tearful account. “I wanted to prove to my homeboys that I was strong. It happened so fast. I never thought I could kill someone. My mind was blurry from the bars I took [“bars” is the street name for the sedative drug Xanax], but I know what I did. I went against God and everything that’s right, and I killed him. And I am so, so sorry.”

When she finished speaking, Allen opened her eyes and looked straight at a woman who was later identified as her grandmother. Allen smiled shakily, then began to sob.

Allen’s confession represents a major upset for the defense. Her attorney insisted that Ms. Allen was not well at the time of her testimony. The judge agreed to adjourn court for two days, and Allen is currently undergoing a psychiatric evaluation.

The lead prosecuting attorney, Michelline Camacho, spoke to the press as she exited the courtroom yesterday. “There’s no doubt in my mind that jurors will find her guilty,” she told reporters. “What we have here is a case of conscience at work, and I’m deeply grateful for the family of the victim that the truth has finally come to light. That the defendant herself told the truth, well, that makes it all the more meaningful.” When asked about the possibility of a plea bargain, Ms. Camacho shook her head.

Allen’s counsel turned down two no-jail plea bargains prior to going to trial.

Irving Griggs, a law professor at the University of Houston who has been following the case closely, explains that while Allen’s confession will likely lead to a guilty verdict, jurors are sure to be affected by her words. “You just don’t see that kind of sincerity on the stand, not when speaking the truth means putting your own skin on the line. Nobody in the courtroom breathed while she was talking. It was unbelievable.”

Griggs and other legal experts expect a more lenient sentence than Allen would otherwise have received if found guilty of murder. Still, she will likely face a much harsher sentence than if she had accepted the plea bargain offered by the prosecution earlier this month.

Unless the defense elects to call additional witnesses, the case will likely go to jury when the court reconvenes on Friday.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The Knife and the Butterfly
is a work of fiction. The inspiration for the novel, however, came from an actual event. On June 6, 2006, Ashley Benton stabbed Gabriel Granillo with a double-bladed knife during a gang fight in a Houston park.

In a statement to the police the following day, Benton asserted, “When he started to run away, that’s when I caught him.” She also laughed repeatedly and described eating at a Mexican restaurant after the stabbing.

But when Benton was tried for murder in 2007, her lawyers argued that she struck Granillo in self-defense. That trial ended with a hung jury, and Benton later accepted a plea bargain. In exchange for pleading guilty to aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, she received five years of probation. After two years, a judge suspended the remaining probation, and Benton was free to go on with her life.

Of course, by now you know that
The Knife and the Butterfly
is not a story of courtroom drama; the trials that interest me most take place in the human heart.

As I wrote
The Knife and the Butterfly
, Azael and Lexi quickly took on a life quite independent of the “real” Granillo and Benton I read about in the papers. I had to grow into the writer who could tell Azael and Lexi’s story, a story that is much darker—and more hopeful—than I ever imagined starting out. I have done my best to portray faithfully the complex loyalties, relationships, and insecurities of teens on society’s fringe.

I learned a great deal about MS-13, which has been described by some as the world’s most dangerous gang, but I focused on the particulars of MS-13’s activity in Houston. I also researched street writers (graffiti artists) to understand what making a mark on the city’s face might mean to a teen like Azael. Finally, I explored the particularities of the Salvadoran immigrant community in Houston. Spanish speakers will notice the occasional use of “vos” by Azael’s older relatives, which is characteristic of Salvadoran Spanish, while Azael’s and his peers’ speech reflects the influence of other dialects.

Above all, I wanted to show Azael and Lexi’s world as much more than just a patchwork of crime and violence. In addition to the very real threat of their circumstances and the danger of poor choices, I hope to have captured these two teens’ vulnerability and their potential for redemption. For teens like Lexi and Azael, the knife is often easier to find than the butterfly, but that doesn’t mean the butterfly isn’t there.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Much gratitude to the following professional rock stars: my agent, Steven Chudney; my editor, Andrew Karre; and Lindsay Matvick, Elizabeth Dingmann, and all the others at Lerner who work behind the scenes to make great books happen. I’m also grateful to Blythe Woolston for blazing trails and sharing her wisdom.

A special thank you to the turn-around scholars of my freshman English summer school class at Davis High in Houston. I started finding Azael’s voice while we were writing together back in 2007, and you told me that you wanted to hear more of it. I’m glad you put me on the right track.

To my writing group, thanks for reading the manuscript (twice). To Alisa, thank you for the friendship that makes writing seem possible all over again every time we talk.

To my families from Kilgore, El Paso, Houston, Denver, and beyond, thank you for believing in my writing. Special thanks to my parents, who can find redemption anywhere and who support me in everything, and to my brother, Justin, who never, never leaves me in the lurch.

And most of all, thank you to my boys for all the days and nights you shared me with my writing. Arnulfo, thank you for reading and for listening. I still can’t believe my luck. Liam, thank you for your jokes, your laughter, and your
besos
. You two are the best part of my every day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Ashley Hope Pérez grew up in Texas and served in the Teach for America Corps in Houston. She has worked as a translator and is completing a PhD in comparative literature. She spends most of her time reading, writing, and teaching college classes on vampire literature and Latin-American women writers.
Kirkus
called her first novel,
What Can’t Wait
, “
Un magnífico
debut.” Ashley lives in Indiana with her husband, Arnulfo, and their son, Liam Miguel. Visit her online at
www.ashleyperez.com
.