Megan Derr - The Missing Butterfly.pdf - Missing butterfly - SilverWitch

The Missing Butterfly

By Megan Derr

Published by:

Less Than Three Press

permission of the publisher, except for the purpose of reviews.

Edited by Sabrina

Cover art by Megan Derr

This book is a work of fiction and as such all characters and situations are fictitious. Any resemblance to

actual people, places, or events is coincidental.

Electronic Edition January 2010

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-1-936202-07-2

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"Sorry I'm late!" Cassidy stumbled to a halt in the middle of the room, barely avoiding face planting on

the hardwood floor. He shoved back errant curls and attempted to look especially contrite and

apologetic, with a side of puppy, please do not kick.

Bruce, Jake, and Eddie simply shared a roll of the eyes and went back to fiddling with their respective

instruments.

"What kept you today, fearless leader?" Bruce asked, neglecting his bass just long enough to ask.

Cassidy tossed his messenger bag aside, then stripped off his tie and oxford, kicking off his fancy shoes

before striding to the microphone. "My new advisor is a bit long-winded, but I'm just about all set for my

classes. Mostly just financial aid stuff to take care of now, and I can start with the fall session. No

manager will be screwing us over, baby!"

Jake snorted and rolled his eyes again. "We've got a long way to go before we have to worry about a

manager, honey."

"Sugar, with your fingers and my voice, it's only a matter of weeks. Maybe months. Definitely not years.

By the time I'm nineteen, Four Butterflies will be number one in the universe."

"Stop getting ahead of yourself, dickhead, and warm up," Eddie said, twirling his drumsticks in warning.

Cassidy rolled his eyes at them, but obediently paid attention to his microphone—and promptly started

singing 'I'm a Little Teacup' in what Bruce called his 'Girls Will Throw Panties' voice. Bruce liked that

voice, 'cause his favorite daydreams pertaining to rock and roll fame were the girls and the panties and

the girls without panties.

Which was fine by Cassidy, he preferred his naked to be boy shaped.

Something struck the back of his head, and he bent to retrieve the crumpled paper, whipping around to

throw it right back at Eddie, who looked too innocent to actually be innocent. "You're a drummer. Hit

the drums, not me."

"Then sing a good song."

"Fucking play then, for me, bay-bee," he said, singing the last bit into the mike, batting his eyes and then

immediately ducking an empty soda can. "Philistines," he said loftily, then signaled, and they began to

practice in earnest.

Cassidy sang for all he was worth, just like he did every time, all the time. He had a voice, damn it, and

his band had talent, and they would rule the world someday. He knew it.

4 | Megan Derr

Until then, he was weeks away from business school, the boy at the coffee shop had totally been flirting,

and if he did well his first semester his parents would help him buy a new car. He didn't even mind going

to see his sister in her doofy play in an hour.

Ack. Play.

But even as he started to call a halt, Bruce beat him to it—rather, Bruce's cell phone beat them all to it.

"You're supposed to turn that damned thing off during practice," Taskmaster Eddie said, scowling at

Bruce through electric-blue bangs.

Bruce only blew him a kiss. "Time to stop, anyway. I have a hot date, Cass has to go watch his lovely little

sister be Snow White—"

"Jailbait, asshole," Cassidy said. "If you ever touch my sister, I will kill you. After I make you eat your

balls."

Eddie cut them both off with a crash of cymbal and stood up. "Pop is probably going to be home soon,

anyway. I need to get his supper started. You losers get lost and make certain you're here tomorrow on

time—" A pointed look at Cassidy. "Or else."

"Who needs a manager with Edwin around, eh?"

"Call me that again, Jakey, and you'll be eating your balls."

Cassidy protested. "Hey! No stealing my threats." He started to say more, but the sound of his own

phone stopped him short. "Shit," he swore, seeing his neighbor's number come up. Interfering old busy

body, she probably was calling 'on behalf of his mother' to see if he was on his way home to be there in

time to go the play.

Raking back his curls, wiping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his t-shirt, he flipped the phone open

and punched accept. "Hey, Ms. Snick—what, whoa, hold on—CALM DOWN. I can't—what—"

As her words finally made sense, Cassidy's face went ashen. He didn't notice the way his friends abruptly

fell silent and looked at him with concern—didn't notice they were watching the pallor of his face, the

way he was trembling. "Ms. Snickers—yeah, okay. I'm on my way. I-I-I'll get Jakey to drive me, you just

stay there with Lindsay and Denny."

He closed his phone with a sharp snap and barely managed to shove it into the pocket of his fancy dress

slacks. "J-j—"

Eddie abandoned his drums and came to him, gripping his arm. "Hey, man, what's wrong?"

"D-dead," Cassidy got out and tried to smile reassuringly, then realized how fucking stupid that was. "Car

hit my parents. They're dead. I, uh, gotta go. Can Jakey—"

The Missing Butterfly | 5

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