We Own the Sky (The Muse Chronicles Book 1)

by Sara Crawford

  He frowns. “Why did you tell me that? How am I supposed to just say, ‘okay, sure have a great time at the boozey party’?”

  “You play in bars all of the time,” I counter.

  “That’s not the same. I’m thirty-three years old.” His eyebrows are crinkled up, and I can tell he’s worried, but at the same time, he wants me to play.

  “I promise you I won’t drink anything, and you can come see us when we play somewhere real.”

  “Alright, Sylvie,” he says as he stands up. “Be home by 11:00, okay?”

  “Sure,” I say.

  Ryan’s red SUV pulls into the driveway. My nerves are all over the place seeing it. Am I really going to do this? Play in front of people?

  Relax. It’s just Charlie.

  Dad helps me load Charlie and the PA system he was nice enough to let us use, into the SUV, and then we are off. Ryan even lets me sit shotgun as Travis drives.

  “Why are you driving?” I ask Travis.

  “Because I’m getting my Jack on!” Ryan exclaims, taking a huge sip from his flask.

  “You might want to wait until after we play,” I say. “I don’t want you to suck.” I cross my arms. My emotions are all over the place again, and I suddenly feel extremely irritated at Ryan for being so immature.

  “Relax,” Ryan says. “I’m just having a little bit.”

  “You couldn’t even wait until we got there?” I fume.

  “Hey, I know what we need,” Travis says loudly as he turns up the car stereo. His phone is hooked up, and some song is on that I don’t recognize. He is trying to diffuse the tension. “Young Guns” by Moonlight Bride comes on after. I can feel myself calming down. It’s hard to be upset when this song is on. I stare out the window at the passing trees, the passing houses.

  And then it hits me. I am on my way to play my first show with my first band, and Moonlight Bride is playing. I can’t help but feel elated.

  ***

  Tommy’s house is huge. It’s a little closer to school, not as close to the Square, in one of the rich neighborhoods. I don’t have time to gawk over the large house, though, because we are setting up in the corner of the basement den. (There is more than one den of course.)

  “Alright, Tommy said he’s still waiting for people to show up so you guys can go get some beer if you want. He has two kegs in the back yard!” Ryan looks like a kid in a candy shop.

  “I don’t drink,” I say for the 200th time.

  “Whatever,” he says as he scampers off to the kitchen.

  “You alright?” Travis asks me.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m just a little nervous.”

  “You’ll be fine,” he says, flashing a smile.

  Bianca and Cassie walk down the stairs. They both look all dressed up again. Bianca’s long red hair is up in an elegant twist, and she wears black skinny pants and a tight purple top that definitely brings out her cleavage. Cassie is wearing a dark green dress with a white sweater over it and a white headband to match in her short dark hair.

  “Hey!” I call to them.

  “Hey, girl!” Bianca exclaims. They both walk over to us, and Cassie says hello as Bianca grabs Travis and kisses him. “Let’s go get a beer!” She drags him off to the back yard, leaving Cassie and I standing awkwardly.

  “So how is everything?” I ask Cassie.

  “Okay, I guess.” She looks disturbed as she peers out the back window, trying to catch a glimpse of Bianca and Travis. “Tommy Craig had no idea who I was.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that guy,” I say with a scoff.

  “Are you guys ready to play?” she asks me. I get distracted as Mariela appears in her usual black 1960s dress. Her cheeks dimple, and she waves as me.

  “Yeah,” I say to Cassie. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  I walk away, trying to signal Mariela to follow me. I open the door to an empty small guest room. She walks in behind me and shuts the door.

  “Are you ready?” she asks as she gives me a huge hug.

  “I think so,” I say. “Vincent. Have you seen him?” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I never get to see her without Travis and Ryan hanging around so I never get to ask her about him. She frowns.

  “He’s not doing so well,” she says, looking at her nails.

  “So, you have seen him? Why won’t he at least come talk to me?” I ask, a hint of desperation in my voice.

  “I don’t know, chica,” she says. “He thinks you are better off without him.”

  “I’m not,” I insist, my lips forming a frown.

  “I know that,” she says. “Someone like you needs a Muse. Do you want me to find you someone else?”

  “No.” I stare at the ground. So, he really isn’t coming back? “Will you ask him to at least come talk to me?”

  “It’s difficult for him,” she says. “With you being able to see all of us.”

  “He let his last artist see him,” I argue.

  “Exactly,” she says. “That didn’t turn out so well, did it?” She sighs, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  “Have you ever made Travis see you?” I ask.

  “No,” she says with a laugh. “It would crush his ego if he knew the truth.” She looks at me with sincere caring in her eyes. “I will talk to Vincent if I see him again.”

  I put my hand on hers. “Thank you, Mariela.”

  “Now, let’s go rock,” she says. I follow her out of the room, my spirits lifted ever so slightly.

  ***

  We have played the best set we could have hoped to play. Mariela danced behind Travis the entire time, and he has never sounded as good. Even Ryan was on top of his game, which was surprising considering all his pre-show drinking. And I have had insane amounts of energy, sitting behind Charlie. I’m sweating and gross, but it has been worth it.

  Unfortunately, no one has been paying attention to us except for Cassie and Bianca. Every now and then some drunk person passing through stops for a few seconds and nods their head and yells “Woooh!” or “Yeaaahh!”

  “Thanks for sticking around,” Travis says into the microphone like there are more than two people paying attention. “This is our last song.”

  “WOOOOOOH!” a drunk Bianca yells.

  We launch into a cover of a song by The Killers. I had never been a huge fan of The Killers, but this song is a lot of fun to play. It’s also really simple. As I play, I close my eyes. I imagine there are hordes of people rocking out to our set. I imagine Vincent’s hand is on my shoulder as he Inspires me. I imagine I am at the mic singing my own songs.

  The song ends to mild applause. Surprisingly, several others filed in when we started playing The Killers song. I guess that’s typical. People care more about songs they already know.

  “Thanks,” Travis says into the mic, and then he takes his guitar off and immediately starts packing up. I can tell he’s in a bad mood.

  “Hey, great set,” I say to both him and Ryan.

  “Thanks,” he mumbles.

  “Yeah!” Ryan seems a little tipsy as well.

  Mariela waves at me. “Bye, chica!” I want to remind her what she promised about talking to Vincent but she disappears.

  Ryan stands around chatting with some of the people who wandered in when we were playing The Killers song. Travis and I pack up our gear and load it out.

  By the time we get back inside, we have packed everything up, and Ryan is nowhere to be found.

  “I’m so glad he helped us load out,” Travis says sarcastically.

  “Are you okay?” I ask him, sitting down on a barstool.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “I just thought it would be more like The Warehouse show.”

  “I know what you mean,” I say. “The crowd wasn’t exactly appreciative.”

  “I’m not sure what we expected. A keg party at Tommy Craig’s house. I don’t even know why he hired us. He didn’t see any of our set, I don’t think.”

  “Can we find Ryan and
get out of here?” I ask. “It’s almost 10:30, and I’m supposed to be home by 11:00.”

  Travis nods, and I stand up.

  Cassie walks up to us. “Hey guys! Great set! I wish more people had listened.” She looks away, not making eye contact with any of us. “Have any of you seen Bianca?”

  “I thought she was with you?” Travis says.

  “I went to use the bathroom, and when I came back she was gone,” Cassie says. “I’m going to go look for her upstairs.”

  “We’ll come with you,” I say. “We’re trying to find Ryan.”

  When we all walk upstairs, there are people everywhere, drinking, playing beer pong, dancing to energetic hip-hop. I scan the room, but I don’t see Ryan anywhere. I do, however, see Tommy who has Bianca pressed up against the counter in the kitchen. She is drunk, and she hardly even looks aware of what’s going on. He whispers in her ear and grabs her waste. Travis looks livid, but it’s Cassie who charges up to him.

  “Get off her!” she yells, tearing him off her. Travis is right behind her, and he rushes up to Bianca.

  “Are you okay?” he asks her. She mumbles some incoherent things and passes out right in Travis’s arms. He looks right at Tommy. “What the hell, man? Didn’t you know we were dating?”

  “Yeah, I did,” Tommy says. “Why else do you think I got your shitty band to play?”

  Travis looks like he wants to launch himself at Tommy, but he is holding Bianca up. Ryan comes out of nowhere and puts an arm around Tommy.

  “Come on, man,” he says. “You owe us fifty bucks.”

  Tommy and Ryan walk off. I look over and Travis and Cassie are seething with anger.

  “Let’s go,” I tell them gently. “He’s not worth it.”

  ***

  Travis drives, I sit in the front seat, and Ryan sits in the back seat. Moonlight Bride is still playing softly on the stereo. Was that really just a few hours ago?

  “Do you think Bianca will be okay?” I ask.

  “She’s staying with Cassie,” Travis says. “She’ll be alright.”

  “How can you be friends with that guy?” I ask Ryan.

  “I’m not friends with him,” he says with a hiccup. “He just gets pot from me sometimes. Anyway, he threw in some extra money after I yelled at him for that whole mess with Bianca. Now we have one hundo.”

  “Great,” Travis says.

  “Don’t you think we played a good set?” he asks.

  We are both silent. The night wasn’t exactly a success.

  “Look,” he says. “You take fifty bucks, Sylvia, and you take the other fifty, Travis.” He hands me a wad of cash, and stuffs the rest in the cup holder.

  “Th—thanks,” I stammer. I can tell it’s his attempt to be a decent person. He’s not all bad, I guess.

  “And I know he didn’t just hire us so he could hit on Bianca,” Ryan says. “And I didn’t know he was going to do that. Sorry, mi amigo.” Ryan starts speaking Spanish to Travis after he has been drinking. It’s odd that I’ve heard Ryan speak more Spanish than Travis.

  He means well. As odd as it is, I have kind of grown to like Ryan. There’s something lovable about how stupid he is.

  We get to my house at 11:02, and I rush inside. Dad is downstairs in the studio, and I can hear him playing Midnight Walk songs on Jimmy. I don’t want to disturb him so I pull out my phone and send him a text letting him know I’m home.

  When I get up to my room, I play my Vincent playlist and lie down.

  Vincent. Please come back. Please come back.

  I repeat the words in my mind like a mantra until I drift off to sleep.

  SEVENTEEN

  Vincent

  Vincent. Please come back. Please come back.

  He heard Sylvia calling out to him as he sat on top of Constellation Place in Los Angeles. He was miserable. How long would it take her to forget him? He had no doubt she would find another Muse, but how long would it take for her to get over him and look for one? He should have moved on when he had the chance. Sylvia stopped him then—though she didn’t know it. Sylvia was stopping him now. He couldn’t move on until he knew she would be alright.

  Mariela appeared behind him. He didn’t turn around to see her, but he knew it had to be either her or Izabella. They were the only two people who knew about this place.

  “I knew you would be here,” she said as she walked over to him and sat down next to him, adjusting her dress. “Are you waiting for Izabella?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m just thinking.” He turned to look at her. “Am I going to regret telling you that this is our secret meeting place? I mean, it was supposed to be a secret and now you’re here.”

  “I had to come and talk some sense into you,” she said. She smacked him in the head.

  “Oww!” he exclaimed. “What was that for?”

  “For Sylvia,” she said. “You two could be creating amazing music—the kind of music I inspire Travis to write, and instead you sit here brooding.”

  “Don’t you understand? We were starting to develop feelings for each other. I can’t expect her to have a Muse boyfriend. That would be absurd.” Vincent crossed his arms in front of his chest.

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she asked. “Someone you could be with? I say you have the best of both worlds here. You get to Inspire her, and you don’t have to be so lonely anymore.”

  “I don’t know what I want,” he muttered. “And anyway, I definitely don’t want this for her. She should be out living a normal teenage life.” He decided not to mention the conversation he and Izabella had with Urania about Clio.

  “Why don’t you let her decide what she wants?” Mariela asked. “I saw how happy she made you. I haven’t seen you that happy in a very long time, maybe not ever. And she was happy, too. She has to deal with seeing Muses everywhere she goes. I show up to band practice all of the time, and she can see me, and everything is fine.” She reached over and took Vincent’s hand. “What I’m trying to tell you, hermano, is that maybe it will be alright. Maybe Sylvia isn’t like Izabella or Amber. Maybe you two can create music and be together and be…happy. Don’t you owe it to yourself to at least find out?”

  Vincent sat in silence, staring out into the sky.

  Mariela let go of Vincent’s hand and stood up. “I have to get back to Travis. You know where I’ll be if you want to talk.” She touched him affectionately on the shoulder before she vanished.

  Vincent. Vincent. Vincent.

  He heard Sylvia thinking his name over and over again like a prayer.

  EIGHTEEN

  Birthday

  I open my eyes and have a brief moment of confusion, trying to hold onto the dream I had last night—I think it involved Vincent—before I remember that today is Friday, October 12th. And now I’m seventeen.

  I haven’t really been a fan of birthdays since I was a little kid. Birthdays are supposed to be a happy time of celebration with friends and family. I’ve never really had many friends so birthdays usually just make me feel lonely. Last year, my dad and his bandmates took me out to eat at Chili’s. It was nice of them and everything, but it made me feel a little like a loser. Other girls were having these massive sweet sixteen parties. (Bianca even invited me to hers on Facebook. I didn’t go of course.) And I was just having pasta with my dad and his drunken bandmates, who were hardly even paying attention to me.

  I can’t help but feel a little optimistic about this birthday, though. I mean, I actually kind of have a social life now. Granted, most of my friends are my bandmates now, instead of my dad’s bandmates, but still.

  I get ready for school in a rush. On the bus, I put Murphy on shuffle, and M83 comes on. “We Own the Sky” plays, and somehow, I feel like Vincent is with me. Murphy always knows what songs I need to hear.

  My first few classes pass without anyone wishing me a happy birthday. Why would they? I don’t expect anyone who I never talk to in homeroom, history, or algebra to even know that it’s my birthday. I did halfway t
hink that maybe Travis or Bianca would decorate my locker like I sometimes see the popular kids have on their birthdays, but when I get to my un-decorated locker, I try not to look too disappointed. I still feel slightly optimistic as I walk to chorus.

  “Hey, girl!” Bianca says to me as I walk in. I smile at her and sit down, waiting for her to wish me a happy birthday, but she doesn’t. Cassie smiles at me but doesn’t say anything. I figure as soon as Travis walks in—wearing the most ridiculous skinny red pants and white t-shirt that has nothing but a black mustache on it by the way—surely he will wish me a happy birthday, but he just says hello to us, gives Bianca a hug, and moves to sit with the rest of the tenors.

  I am sure disappointment is starting to show on my face, but I refuse to tell anyone it’s my birthday. There is even a part of me that thinks that maybe Mariela will say something when she shows up, but she doesn’t even show. And neither does Vincent, but he hasn’t shown up in chorus in a while. I still haven’t seen him, but I send him thoughts every night.

  We sing and go through our songs for the fall concert next weekend like normal. And soon chorus is over. I walk to lunch with Bianca, Cassie, Ryan, and Travis, who are all talking about something I don’t care to notice.

  What is the point of having friends if no one will wish you a happy birthday? The more I think about this, the harder it is getting to resist tears. More than anything, I wish that Vincent would show up and take me in his arms, but of course he won’t because I can’t rely on flighty immortal beings to be there for me. Not even on my birthday.

  I make some excuse about needing to work on my Greek mythology paper—which is actually the last thing I want to do right now—and head to the library as soon as I am done eating. No one even offers to come with me or try to stop me. I sit in the library with Murphy and put The Smiths on. It seems appropriate.

  As the rest of the day goes by, I feel progressively worse. This birthday is going even more horribly than any other I’ve had. It’s almost better to have no friends on your birthday than to have all your friends forget about it. And Dad was still sleeping when I left for school so he hasn’t wished me a happy birthday either. I just want to go home and crawl into bed.