Butterfly Farm

At 11:38 a.m. on day three of the spring-break adventure cruise, Carly Lowe was ready to make her escape. She tramped down the gangway, a crowd of passengers growing around her like a giant ameba and adding to her annoyance. The rattletrap ship was too small, the stuffy lectures too boring, the same old group she hung with at Shepparton College, too predictable. Why should she spend another day with any of them, especially today, lurching along by aerial tram through a drizzling, bug-infested rain forest? Drifting toward the back of the group, she turned her thoughts to Julian Mendez. The fiery-eyed Latino had asked her to meet him just before noon in front of Club Bolero. It was a date she intended to keep. He was totally sweet...and hot. CapitalHhot. And he played guitar. She'd heard him play onboard and loved the sound. Following Ricki Ross, the ship's naturalist, the group trailed into the deserted main street of Parisima. Harriet MacIver walked beside Carly, but the older woman was paying no attention to her. She had whipped out her notepad and was writing down some bit of scientific trivia imparted by the man to her left, Dr. Jean Baptiste, the onboard guest lecturer on the scientific wonders of the human body.Bo-ring. Ricki Ross walked backward, holding high an unfurled umbrella as she shouted last-minute instructions about splitting into two groups one led by her ecologist husband, Gregory; the other by Ricki herself. The umbrella thing was weird because it wasn't as if they were surrounded by hordes of other tourists. Parisima was practically deserted. For several minutes Carly pretended to hang on Ricki's every word, but as the group rounded a corner, she ducked behind a potted palm. She waited, peering through the fronds, as the last of the passengers straggled along. If Harriet or any of the others noticed she wasn't with them, they would assume she was with the other group. Carly had not invited her roommate, though now she was having a few guilt twinges. Zoe had glanced up when Carly left the room, but only to shoot her a sad look. Not many people liked Zoe. Truth be told, Carly didn't either. Not much. But Zoe was on Carly's list of things to work on in her new be-kinder-to-others self-improvement campaign. Her classmate wasn't part of the "in" crowd, and Carly felt sorry for her. Part of her crusade on this cruise was to help the poor waiflike creature dress better and improve her image so she might gain acceptance from their peers. Carly didn't even grimace when they were assigned to the same stateroom on the ship, but she was dismayed when Zoe rebuffed her every effort to help her improve her looks and interact with Carly's friends. She'd also been surprised to find something comforting in Zoe's solid, studious, no-nonsense ways. Here they were on the sun-kissed eastern coast of Costa Ricawell,sun-kissedmight be a stretch; more like insect-infested swampland with lonesome gray beaches, straggly coconut palms, and air so heavy it drippedand Zoe was holed up in their stateroom with her nose in a chemistry textbook. Too bad. This would have been a great opportunity to impart a few wise tips about social graces to her roomie. Not that Carly didn't appreciate Zoe's hard work and the sobering realities that went with good grades. But work was work and play was, well, essential to one's well-being. Most of Carly's friends saw her as a funloving airhead who knew more about Kate Spade than Albert Einstein. It was true that she loved a good time, but she also got a kick out of things that fed her intellect and soul. She just didn't advertise it. She watched the last knot of passengers dNoble, Diane is the author of 'Butterfly Farm ', published 2006 under ISBN 9781400070398 and ISBN 1400070392.