The Missing Butterfly

Prologue

"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.

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—"

He didn't finish and didn't really remember much after that, until he got home and his siblings were crying and his neighbor was crying and there were police and Lindsay was still dressed up as Snow White—

As he held his siblings and cried with them, struggling all the while to listen to what other people were telling him, all Cassidy could think was that he had no fucking clue what to do.