Picture of Lyra over there ------------------------------>
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This was torture. Complete, utter torture. It had been two weeks since the audition for Kick the Crown. Two. Weeks.
My phone was constantly either in my hand or pocket - I was paranoid that I would miss the phone call and therefore lose all hope of joining the band. Now, in Amor Musicis, I realised that I was at breaking point.
"-and its been two weeks!" I finished, throwing my hands up in the air.
Tom sighed. "Well, its quite a big decision. They love their band, and they're on the brink of a major deal, Lyra. I suppose adding someone new so late is quite a big issue for them. Have patience."
I scowled. "I'm not good with patience, Tom."
"I'd noticed."
"But what do I do now? Before, I had Psychedelic Disadvantage to occupy me, even if it was stupid. But now... I just sit in my hotel room, waiting for the phone call, or come here and buy albums I don't have room for and try not to think about the phone call."
Tom shrugged. "Find something to keep you busy. You're still in the hotel, but you've been in New York a while now. Find somewhere to live for real."
I thought about it. "I suppose you're right. But... I don't want a house. I don't need anything too big or permanent."
"An apartment, then?"
I nodded. "Yeah. But I have no idea where to start."
Grinning, he said, "Check the House Sales section of the newspapers - you'll find something suitable. And then, you can have somewhere to actually call your own. How will you pay for it, though? You don't have a job."
I sighed. "I've been using a load of money I took from my Dad to pay for the hotel suite. But...Maybe, I'll get in with Kick the Crown, we'll get a record deal and I'll be earning millions a day?" I shook my head. "That's not what I want from music." I said. "I don't know."
Tom laughed. "You need to talk to your Dad."
I groaned. "Goody."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Shopping for an apartment was easier than I thought it ever would be. In a matter of minutes, I had scanned the Newspaper's House Sales section and circle one that suited me well in red marker pen.
It was small, but I didn't need anything big. It was cosy, just what I wanted. It was perfect. A living/dining area, small kitchen, one bedroom and a small room to be used for storage or anything useful like that. I rang the owners of the apartment and settled a time to check it out the next day, but I already knew that I would probably get the apartment.
The only problem now was money. I still had loads of the cash I had taken from my father - enough to rent out the apartment for a good few months. But that was guilty money. Although Dad obviously didn't miss it, I still felt uneasy when spending it. But should I try to get a job when I was waiting for Kick the Crown to tell me if I was in? If I did get the place in the band, I wouldn't want to be messed around with a job. But if I didn't get one because I was waiting for their answer and then found that I wasn't in the band, I might not get any opportunities.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"-it's not huge, but for someone your age,-"
I grinned. "Its perfect."
Mrs Williams smiled. She was the middle-aged owner of the apartment. She looked kind of out of place among the plainess of the place; she wore cashmere cardigans and wore a string of pearls around her neck. Her husband played golf. It was pretty obvious that they were desperate to get out of the tiny apartment.
"Well, I'm glad to see the place going to a smart girl like you." She said, and I ducked my head modestly.
She then waited in the hallway whilst I took a look around the flat myself. The living room was the biggest, with cream walls and wooden flooring. The kitchen was small, very narrow with bright blue tiles on the walls and gleaming silver workspaces. At the back of the flat was the bedroom - more cream walls, a large airy window, and beige carpeting. The bathroom was plain yet clean and usable. The tiny extra room was used by the Williams' for storing stuff like suitcases and christmas decorations.
I loved it - it was everything I needed, without being too over the top. I could furnish it with more me type things, but it served all the things I would require out of a home. And, better still, the basic furniture, such as the sofa and beds and stuff, came with it - it had been there when Mrs Martin moved in.
I smiled as I looked around. This was it. This was what settling into my own place would feel like. It was somethign every kid imagined at one point - moving in with the cardboard boxes and arranging things the way you wanted. Now it was here. I didn't even feel guilty about my Dad. I had called and told him that I was doing the responsible thing and getting somewhere permanent to stay and even gave him the address, just to look even more grown up. I omitted the whole 'I might be joining a rock band part' though.
I rejoined with Mrs Williams. "When could I move in?" I asked, tentatively.
She beamed at me. "Oh, dear, Oliver and I are leaving tomorrow - we want to get the round-the-world trip started as soon as we can, now that we have a taker on this place. I suppose you could get yourself settled in the day after tomorrow, dear."
I raised my eyebrows. "Your leaving so soon?" I asked.
She nodded. "To be honest, although this is a perfectly nice flat, Olly and I don't really fit in the neighbourhood. We've been saving for years now, so we can set off on the next plane to Rome. That's where we're starting the trip, you see. We're desperate to get out."
I shrugged. "It works in my favour, I suppose. Thanks, Mrs Williams."
"Don't mention it, sweetie."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"How's it going?" Charles asks from across the room.
I jolt with surpise in my seat, having forgotten that I am in the therapist office. I am so in tune with the past memories I am writing in the notepad that I blink at him, confused. I remember he had requested I jot down some emtoions, and I had started to write out the whole story instead.
"I'm fine." I say, clicking the pen a few times. "Just...elaborating?" I phrase it like a question, but Charles merely nods.
I shrug and return to the paper.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two days later, I kicked the door to flat open once more, lugging my suitcase behind me. I set it on the cushiony sofa and let out a sigh of relief. I had finally stepped over one of the most responsible things I'd ever have to do.
The previous day had consisted of seeing a man about the electricity and such like, and also paying the first three months with the left over money from Dad's stash I had brought to the City. I had packed my suitacse with the clothes I had bought and the now pretty extensive album collection from Amor Musicis this morning, and now, at five o' clock in the afternoon I was moving into the apartment.
I wondered what was the best way to settle in to a new home. Shrugging, I zipped open the suitcase and pull out the pile of clothes and pyjamas. I carry them through to the bedroom. The wardrobe was on the back wall, a medium sized wooden thing. Opening the doors with my feet, I hung up my jeans, skirts, band tops and jackets. At the bottom, I piled my shoes (mostly Doc Martens and Converse) in rows. My pyjamas went stacked into the drawer at the side of the bed, and I went back to the main room and the suitcase.
Noting the quite large bookcase on the wall opposite the door, I began shifting the albums in lots of five and ordering them neatly. I was so OCD about my CD's - if they were in the wrong order or looked messy, I couldn't bear it. I smiled as they took form in rows, each one a little piece of me.
Now the place looked more like my place, I thought, as I stacked the few books I had procured on the last remaining shelf of the bookcase. Potter stood alongside Sherlock Holmes and Stiefvater's. I was reader for real, but music eclipsed my books, which is why I hadn't bothered buying books as much as I had with getting records.
I then removed all the extra things - like toiletries and so on - from the suitacse so that it was empty. I lined up my shampoo bottles and sponges and stuff in the bathroom, and then shoved the suitcase at the back of the wardrobe again.
Sighing, I flopped down onto the sofa. Then I stood up and inserted Mylo Xyloto into the CD player. Selecting Charlie Brown, I went back to the sofa and took in my surroundings. It was pretty weird, actually, having a place to call my own. Like one of those days you knew was coming but always felt years away.
I smiled softly as Chris Martin started singing, his voice soothing the stress inside me. I loved Coldplay; it was like they poured their heart and soul into every piece of music. Also, they were one of the more recent bands I liked just as much as some of the older ones.
"...Be a bright red rose, come bursting the concrete..."
I loved that particular line of the song, because of the mental image it created in my head. A beautiful, yet deadly, rose growing in between the cracks of the paved streets of a grey city. The only vivid colour for miles and miles.
I breathed deeply, snuggling into my sofa - my sofa! - when my tummy grumbled. Feeling the hollow ache in my stomach, I stood up and stretched. In honour of the special day, I decided I would cook myself something yummy - a fried egg and bacon sandwich, a long time favourite of mine. It was what my Dad would cook me when I was ill, yet I loved it anytime.
Clicking the off button on the CD player, the flat instantly seemed too quiet without the tinkling background of Charlie Brown. Shrugging my leather jacket on and lacing my Docs up, I locked the flat behind me, marvelling at how significant the action seemed.
Everything seemed different now - like anything was allowed to happen. I almost skipped down to the nearest supermarket in my giddiness.
Picking up a wire basket from the rack near the sliding doors of the store, I balanced it in the crook of my arm before heading to the bread aisle. It was as I was mooching along the shelves, squeezing all the loaves of bread to see which felt softest, that my phone rang. Rebel Rebel, a Bowie classic blared from the pocket of the leather jacket, and I fumbled with the zip before finally reaching it.
"Hello?" I answered.
"Is this Lyra?" A familiar yet unplaceable voice said.
I frowned. "Um, yeah. Who's this?"
"I'm Freddie, of the Kick the Crown." The guy said, and I immediately knew his voice. "I'm calling to say... Ah, screw it, I hate formal stuff. You're in the band, babe!" He yelled.
My heart lifted a gazillion metres. "No way!" I screamed, not caring that I was in the middle of a crowded store.
"Yes way!" Freddie shouted, "So, we need you to stop by the studio we use tomorrow. Is that alright?"
"Heck yeah!" I jumped up and down excitedly, my stomach doing somesaults. This was it! I was in!
After one last happy squeal together, Freddie said goodbye and I snapped the phone shut. I was in! I was offcially a member of the up and coming, rock and roll, totally awesome, Kick the Crown! This was going to be so different to Psychedelic Disadvantage - this was a band who were as emotional as Bowie, as soulful as Radiohead. And they had chosen me! I didn't truly understand it then, of course, but that was when it all started for me.
Trying to contain myself, I went back to the bread aisle and picked up my abandoned basket. Ignoring the looks I received from my fellow shoppers, I put the bread back and went over to the bakery section.
A situation like this called for celebratory chocolate cake, and so I skipped off to find the biggest, singing:
"We'll run riot. We'll be glowing in the dark."
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I love this chapter - Ly finally grows up a bit and here come Kick the Crown. They are obviously going to be the biggest part of the book, aside from Ly herself. So prepare yourself for some utter madness.
I can;'t wait for the next one! AAAAAAHHHHH!
Oh, and its dedicated to brokenbulletproof because she's an awesome reader so far - I love your comments, girl! And let me know - did I do the lyrics part better this time? :D MX