The chapter in which Marco Diaz and I share the same, terribly busy schedule.

Marco Diaz was a horrible sleeper.

As a child he had cut the circulation out of his leg on more than one occasion because he had twisted his blankets in such a knot around his thigh. His parents had had to take him to this hospital to make sure they didn't have to cut his leg off (which was probably an overstatement brought on by his overactive imagination). But that was only the beginning. He moved about in his sleep so much that sometimes, when he was little, his parents came into his bedroom in the middle of the night to remove his blankets. It was safer to sleep in his pajamas alone and freeze rather than sleep in his blankets and die, in their opinion.

But that was when he was still in school. Marco Diaz had graduated high school so long ago he could barely remember it. Like an island in the distance. He had graduated college with a really expensive degree that he was still desperately trying to pay off. (Although he had had a scholarship, that didn't mean that he was important enough to keep it for four years straight.) He had yet to be able to save enough money to actually leave his parents' house for an apartment of his own—a fact that he himself found incredibly uncomfortable as most of his other friends had left their parents houses—which, although it made little sense, was why he was currently sleeping.

Marco Diaz, from his messy dark hair, to the mole on his cheek, to his fluffy sock covered feet, was sleeping simply because he worked four jobs.

On Saturdays and Sundays, he worked late mornings teaching young children karate. He then rode his rickety bike all the way to El Ciel Nocturne where he worked Wednesdays through Sundays from noon until midnight. On Wednesdays through Fridays he worked mornings at a rather depressing fast food restaurant. Through the weekdays he worked from eight until ten at a quaint little used bookstore.

Marco Diaz was, in short, a busy man.

His parents had practically forced him take Monday and Tuesday off—they had only specifically said during the day so Marco had taken on the evening job at the bookshop downtown. So home was where Marco was when his cellphone rang. Or, more accurately, home was where Marco was when his cellphone rang and promptly scared him half to death.

Falling off his bed was pretty expected. However, in the process, he managed to knot both his legs, and his right arm in the fabric. His left arm was left pinned behind his back. It was amazing how fantastically he managed to get himself into the worst positions possible for human interaction. He wriggled his body across the floor and tapped his phone with his nose, answering the call and putting it on speaker phone.

"Hello?"

"Diaz?" The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"This is he."

And then quietly in the background he heard Ferguson say, "did he just say 'this is he'?" It was then that he knew exactly who was calling.

"Janna," said Marco, "remind me to tell Ferguson and Alfonzo what I asked them when I gave them my phone number in the first place."

"Oh they know." He could hear Janna grinning on the other line. "They were surprisingly willing to give me your phone number, Diaz. I'm sure you'd like to know why."

"Sure, fine, whatever."

"Drumroll please." He could hear both Ferguson and Alfonzo drum rolling in the background. Marco rolled his eyes. Janna had a tendency to make things more serious than they actually were. "That's enough." The background noise halted. "I hope you're sitting down Diaz because it would seem you have an admirer. A secret admirer."

It took a moment for the information to sink in. He had a what? It didn't make sense. And it especially didn't make sense that Janna knew anything about it. He really did not trust her one bit. She was just the type of person to play a practical joke for the fun of it.

"Oh sure," he drawled sarcastically, rolling his eyes despite the fact that she couldn't see him. "Tell me all about this secret admirer of mine."

"As you wish." Janna cleared her throat loudly into the receiver and Marco winced at the sound, secretly glad that the trio on the other side of the phone couldn't see him. "Her name is Star Butterfly."

Star Butterfly. Star Butterfly? The name sounded oddly familiar. It was as if a door in the back of his mind had opened ever so slightly but, he couldn't quite pull it fully open and release the information that was itching within.

Janna was still talking but, he had tuned her out. He exited out of the actual phone section of his phone and proceeded to google exactly who this Star Butterfly was and why on earth her name was so familiar to him. And—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh my god.

Looking at the first photograph that popped up, Marco Diaz nearly died right then and there.

How on earth could he possibly have missed that? Sure, she had been crying and a total utter mess but, he couldn't have possibly been blind enough to miss that the blonde had been serving yesterday was none other than Star Butterfly. The Star Butterfly of Butterfly Industries, the daughter of one of the most famous, most prestigious companies that had ever graced the earth.

He made a mental note to schedule an eye doctor's appointment sooner rather than later.

Butterfly was one of the most well known last names to be heard in whispered conversations on public transit, or anywhere, really. (Public transit was just the first place that came to mind.) They were one of the richest families in the whole state. Known mostly for their beautiful and palace-like homes, as well as the numerous businesses that they had lining the whole country. They were like the royal family, without the whole tyrant-like ruling bit. They were so famous, they were the type of people that rumors were spread about but, people could never tell if the stories were true. The type of people that regular citizens giggled about where they went on vacation, whispering about what the Butterfly's wore to premieres of oscar winning movies, mumbling about where the Butterfly's donated their money every year around the holidays.

Marco remembered reading the cover of one of those tacky salon magazines as a child, and it had said that the next ten generations of Butterfly men and women would never have to work a day in their lives. Even if each generation spent huge, ridiculous sums of money, or did not think before making numerous bad choices.

When he was younger, he had been obsessed. Everybody his age was. Why? Because, although the Butterfly family had tried to keep it a secret, it had come out that the owners of the Butterfly estate—Moon and River Butterfly—had had a secret daughter. A princess to their dynasty. And that princess, a young girl that had been born the same year as Marco, and everybody else his age. It was like a dream—no, a miracle come true! Although none of the kids had ever met her, nor would they probably ever, they all felt attached, as if they knew her personally, whoever that Butterfly child was. They were the lucky generation who would grow up knowing that there was a Butterfly girl in their midst.

And for awhile, this mystery Butterfly was all they ever talked about. Wondering what she looked like, what her name was. The works.

But, over time, it had slipped from the minds of Marco Diaz's peers. Nothing more came up about the mystery daughter and the information became common knowledge. Boring, common knowledge. The girl's name had finally been announced years later as she had come of age, and her face was splattered about the Internet like a Jackson Pollock painting but, nobody had cared. The Butterfly craze had died down for Marco's classmates, as well as himself.

And yet, here she was. Star Butterfly. She had sobbed her way into his life, just because he happened to be in the right place at the right time. It was as if he was living through some poorly written novel filled with obvious plot points and cliches everywhere. Through the ridiculousness of the situation, Marco thought briefly that clearly Moon had won the name contest between the two Butterfly parents. How funny.

"—and that's when I was really surprised like, somebody actually likes Marco Diaz? It's not possible." Janna was still talking.

"Clearly it is possible, Janna. Otherwise you wouldn't be calling me."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, to which he could almost hear her scoff.

He took the moment to think about Jackie Lynn Thomas.

He had lost count on the length of time he had spent pining after her. It felt like forever. He believed he had been in love with her since the dawn of time, since before they had even met, since before he had ever laid eyes on her. She was the epitome of cool, the queen of style. He had fallen for her like the gravity was increased and he had tripped directly in front of her. He had fallen for her hard. Like she had stood in front of the sun and blocked everything else out.

Everybody at El Ciel Nocturne knew. It was hard to hide something like that when he had to see her every week. To work along side her as if nothing was the matter, when in reality everything was the matter.

Alfonzo and Ferguson had realized it first but, they were at an advantage, they had known him for far longer. The four of them had all gone to the same high school, Jackie and the boys sharing more than a handful of classes together. As soon as they had figured it out, both Ferguson and Alfonzo took the time to sprint over to him and elbow him in the gut whenever they saw Jackie in the near vicinity. It was a miracle she hadn't figured it out. After they had "broken the case" to quote Alfonzo, they hadn't let it go for months. Marco swore he had bruises on his ribcage from all that elbowing, and scars on his brain from all that teasing. They liked to say that he should just make a move, not care what happened next. But, he had been tripping in her wake for far too long to do such a thing. If he was going to make a move, it had to be perfect.

And, as he told himself every day that he worked along side her at El Ciel Nocturne, the perfect moment had yet to appear.

Janna had realized it next. And she had told everybody within earshot. People at El Ciel Nocturne, people in the coffee shop he always went to to buy his morning coffee, a handful of students at the karate studio he taught at part time. He had been embarrassed for a few weeks, and had told everybody he had come down with the flu so he couldn't go to work. Janna had called him a chicken, and he hadn't been able to look Jackie in the eye for several weeks after that. (It didn't help that wherever he turned, people would ask if he had asked Jackie out yet. Janna was the worst.)

But, as if it was some sort of miracle, Jackie had never found out.

"Hey Diaz?" said Janna, and he could almost feel the question she asked directly afterwards without her saying it.

Do you want this girl's number?

He wasn't sure.

Part of him wanted to wait for that perfect moment with Jackie. To push aside that strand of turquoise hair out of her face in the moonlight and whisper just how he had felt since he had practically laid eyes on her. To have her cheeks flush slightly in the moonlight or the the spotlight or whatever form of light the perfect moment found them in. To have her say that she felt the same way, that she knew they were meant to be together.

But, part of him wondered why he had even thought the girl, the Star Butterfly, was even looking for something even vaguely romantic. Perhaps she was just… Lonely. Did rich people get lonely? He wasn't sure. Rich people were like a whole different breed of human. Sure, she had wandered into El Ciel Nocturne sobbing, that usually was a call for help, for somebody to step in and make her stop crying. (Which he had, without thinking.) Obviously something had happened to her, something bad. But, perhaps it had nothing to do with some sort of romantic interest in him.

Perhaps she just wanted a friend.

It was something he could wholeheartedly relate to. Needing a friend.

Without even giving himself a moment to think about it, to process it too much. To overthink and most likely change his mind, he smiled at his cellphone, at the invisible Janna on the other line, at the Star Butterfly who had given him the very phone number in a crumpled up note, and told Janna exactly what he wanted.

"I wonder what Jackie will say once she finds out you're cheating on her," said Janna, sarcastically.

"Oh shut up," said Marco, but he couldn't seem to wipe the stupid smile off his face.

It was like a childhood dream come true.

He was going to befriend Star Butterfly.

So, at the beginning of this week, I said to myself "don't write when you're doing college applications, it'll only mess you up when the time crunch begins". And yet, here I am, posting this, the second chapter I've posted in the last 48 hours. I hope you all enjoy witnessing me suffering first hand. I do it for you guys, my adoring readers! (And I also do it for myself, because procrastination is inescapable and I really have no choice.)

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Please, by all means, tell me how terrible the chapter is! (Don't actually do that too harshly, I'll cry.)