16

by AlwaysDressesInStyle

Act I: Sunny Rays

It was a dreary day in Horsevallis. There was nothing surprising about that; it was scheduled, after all. Rain was in the forecast most days. The joys of living in northwestern Equestria. Storms came in off the ocean, and teams of pegasi broke them up. But that moisture had to go somewhere. Most of it was shipped to areas that needed it, but there was always a surplus. As such, it was redistributed over the region, as nightly rainfalls and a nearly perpetual mist during the day. Nothing that prevented ponies from being outside, but just enough to be annoying.

I was tired of all the rain. The very core of my being wanted to be up there, punching holes in the clouds to let the sun shine through. Weather work is a family tradition. My parents are both on the Horsevallis weather team. My paternal grandparents were on the town’s weather team up until their retirement. My maternal grandmother is the regional Weather Coordinator for the entire Seaddle-Tackoma-Vanhoover metropolitan area. It’s in my blood; it’s in my soul; it’s my birthright.

Just like ElectroKaplosion said, ‘Now I see that even a cloudy day has sunshine, you just have to fly high enough to find it.’ I wasn’t supposed to fly above the crowns of the highest trees, because of the constant threat of rogue weather coming in from the sea. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I found a thermal, riding it above the canopy, soaring higher than I’d ever dared to fly before. The joy in my heart couldn’t be contained, and I felt the urge to sing as I flew ever higher. So I did, singing the song of the pegasi. A song of seasons changing, a song of sunny days and cloudy skies. Of rain, and snow, and hail. Gentle breezes and hurricanes, tornadoes and dust devils. It was a song of weather.

I was so busy singing I didn’t even notice I’d reached the clouds until I crashed through them. I’d never seen clouds up close before, aside from a few fluffy clouds my parents brought home from work for my siblings and I to play with. But this was different. These clouds had energy to them. I could feel the lightning arcing through them. Thunderstorms weren’t on the schedule, and the clouds were behaving as expected. But I could tell they wanted to let loose their lightning. I’ve never bucked a cloud before. I really wanted to, but I’d been warned of the dangers of lightning enough times to know better. Without any weather training, I’m a danger to myself and anypony below me. I’m just lucky I didn’t set off a thunderclap when I hit the clouds.

So I flew higher, up and above the clouds. I’d found the sun, but the clouds were too stormy to flop on to sunbathe, much to my disappointment. Instead I let the sun warm me as I flittered about. I couldn’t help it – I sang. I had no clue where the words or notes came from, I just rolled with it.

I’m just having fun, in the warmth of the sun

Flying here and there, with hardly a care

But my heart can’t soar, when the rainfalls pour

Dreary days bring me down, rain always makes me frown

That’s when I choose to fly; above the clouds, oh so high…

In the bright sunlight, I almost missed the flash of light that accompanied my cutie mark coming in. I turned and looked at the marvelous trio of suns decorating my flank. I finished the song.

The warmth heats my flank, that’s now no longer blank.

It wasn’t long before my wings started tiring out, and I carefully carved my way through the sky, deftly dodging the electrically-charged clouds on my way back to the ground.

I glided, circling my neighborhood as I slowly lost altitude. I didn’t have the strength to dive, and the thermal that had been so quick to lift me wasn’t letting me descend as quickly as I would’ve liked. If I want to be a weatherpony like my parents and grandparents before me, I need to strengthen my wings.

I eventually made it to the ground, and immediately galloped into my house to check out my cutie mark in a mirror. It was even more glorious than I thought! I flicked my tail, and it covered the suns. I giggled. “Eclipse!”

When my parents came home from work, I sang my little tune for them. They liked it so much, they asked me to sing it three more times, and they even recorded it the final time.

Then we started planning my cuteceañera. More importantly, since I’d gotten my cutie mark, my parents agreed to sign me up for flight school. One step closer to being a weathermare!

The recording my parents had made of my song proved to be a hit with our friends, family, and neighbors. The local radio station had even played it a few times, and I’d gotten a small payment of royalties from them. It was like Hearth’s Warming: not only were ponies listening to my song, they were even paying me for the privilege!

The Horsevallis Herald did an article on me, but my song slowly faded out of the public consciousness after a few weeks, replaced by the latest hits from Coloratura, Sapphire Shores, and Songbird Serenade.

I was doing my homework when the doorbell rang. I ignored it, as I struggled with a math equation. Long division is torture!

“Sunny!” Mom called from downstairs. “You have a visitor.”

A visitor? Probably one of my classmates hoping I can help with this math homework. I dashed downstairs only to come to a halt in front of… “Countess Coloratura!” I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“You must be the filly I’ve been hearing about.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Countess Coloratura knows who I am?!? Best day ever!

“As you may know, I’m on tour right now, and I just happened to hear your song on the radio. I’d like to introduce you to my producer and manager, Svengallop.”

A stallion walked through the front door. “Is this the little filly you’ve been talking about nonstop?”

“Um… hello?”

“My name’s Svengallop. You probably haven’t heard of me, but I’m the pony who made Countess Coloratura the star she is today.” He paused, as if waiting for something. “Well, come on, we don’t have all day.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Sing.”

I gulped and started singing my song. It was short, and acoustic.

“Not horrible. You have talent, but you have no skill. Get some singing lessons. If you do that, I might be able to help your career like I did the Countess’. Would you like to sign a contract today?”

I nodded my head.

“Very good. I took the liberty of drawing up a standard contract in advance. Sign here.” I stamped my hoof on the document so hard I almost pushed straight through it. “Well this looks to be in order. You agree to take vocal lessons, and will mail me a record every month at your cost so that I can monitor your progress. If, three years hence, I think you’ve improved to the point where I can work with you, we’ll start on an album. The other thing to keep in mind is you’ve signed an exclusive contract. You’re mine.” His eyes wandered to my flank. “You have your cutie mark, and that means your signature is binding.”

Countess Coloratura nudged him in the withers. “You’re scaring her.” She stamped my face with her signature ‘hoofsies’. “Forgive him, he’s all business.” She patted my head. “Practice hard, and one day you might be opening concerts for me.”

“I will!” I nodded enthusiastically.

“Practice really hard, and one day I might be opening concerts for you.”

“That will never happen.” I giggled.

“That’s where you’re wrong. Musicians have a shelf life. Pop stars come and go, replaced by the next hot new thing. It happened to Sapphire Shores when I came along, and it’ll happen to me someday too. At least if you dethrone me, I can say I hoof-picked my replacement at the top of the charts.” She smiled at me and I smiled back.

Before I knew it, Svengallop herded Countess Coloratura out and I sat there, dazed, staring at the door they’d just left through. What just happened?

“Again.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated. “So far away. Doesn’t anypony stay in one place anymore?” For the twentieth time in a row I started the Carol Sing song. It had been written before I was born, even before my parents were born. But my vocal coach Perfect Pitch was fond of it, and so that was the tune we used. Over and over again.

I didn’t see the point in vocal lessons. I hadn’t known any of these techniques when I was singing the song that had caught Countess Coloratura’s attention, and ponies seemed to like it just fine. Perfect Pitch was old-fashioned, and just plain old. All of the songs she had me sing were at least forty years old, and many of them were older than that. I yearned to sing something first performed in my lifetime.

“One last time. With feeling.”

With feeling? The only thing I’m feeling is annoyed! “So far away. Doesn’t anypony stay in one place anymore?” My annoyance with the selection energized the song, as I turned the sad ballad into an uptempo rocker.

Perfect Pitch nodded. “That was quite a bit of feeling. Do you think you could do it that way again?” She motioned to her recording equipment. “It’s almost time for you to send your monthly update to your manager.” There was disdain in her voice on the last word. I’d noticed she never referred to Svengallop by name.

I did as directed, belting out the lyrics again. Perfect had her own portable disc cutting lathe, and proceeded to cut a master record as I performed. It was acoustic, but I’d been forced to listen to the song so many times, the music was playing in my mind.

I stared at the sheet of paper in front of me. It had been a nice, clean sheet of paper only a few minutes ago. Now it was full of a few potential lyrics, but mostly scribbled out lyrics that were… not so good.

Maybe I should focus on being a singer and not a songwriter…

The radio hadn’t been all that inspiring. Mostly songs about love – lost love, found love; in love, out of love; new love, old love; etc. It was a popular topic – nopony wanted to be alone, and when they were alone, they wanted everypony to share their misery. The commercial break ended and the first notes of a song started playing.

“So far away. Doesn’t anypony stay in one place anymore?”

I blinked. I knew the song well. But that wasn’t Carol Sing. The channel I was listening to hadn’t played one of her songs in at least thirty years. That was my voice, but not my envisioned rock version. Instead it was an electronic song with distortion and glitching.

“Mom! Turn the radio on!” I galloped down the stairs, passing Mom as she exited the living room. I skidded to a stop at the kitchen window, where Mom’s radio got the best reception. I fiddled with the knob, and tuned it to my preferred station.

The song was nearing its end by then, but there was still enough left for Mom to instantly recognize my voice.

“Sunny?”

I shrugged. “That’s the song I’m always singing at Perfect Pitch’s. She mailed a master record to Svengallop a few months ago. But it didn’t sound anything at all like this. It was just vocals.”

I had a lot of questions.

“And that was So Far Away by Horsevallis’ own Sunny Rays. You may remember her from Warmth Of The Sun that we played a few times last year. Now she’s back in a big way! All of us here at Princess 108 are expecting great things from this little filly. Now a word from our sponsors.

“For the best in wagons, visit your local Studebaker-Packard dealership and test drive a Conestoga RV. The wagon you can live in when you’re not pulling it. Or if you’re looking for a basic around town cart, try a Lark Wagonaire. Life’s a lark in a Lark! Come in this weekend for our special Hearts & Hooves Day pricing! Show your very special somepony just how much you care with a luxurious new Packard with all the bells and whistles.”

The radio continued playing commercials as I fantasized about being pulled around town in a luxurious new Packard wagon. Maybe I could hire Countess Coloratura’s team of hunky background dancers to pull me around…

Pounding on the kitchen door snapped me out of my daydream. I opened the door to find our neighbor, Cookie Delight. “I heard your song on the radio! Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

“Can…can I have your autograph?”

“Uh… sure?” I looked around for a piece of paper, then dipped my hoof in ink and stamped on it.

“Thank you so much! I’m going to make cookies to celebrate! Just for you!” She disappeared out the backdoor as quickly as she’d entered.

“Mom! I think we need to go see Perfect Pitch.”

Mom agreed, and hitched herself to the family’s old Studebaker Trotsmare wagon. It was the exact opposite of the Packard the same company offered, with interior bits made of painted cardboard, and seats made of gray vinyl that barely cushioned the springs underneath. It was as comfortable as sitting on rocks. I did my best to stay out of sight. I saw several of my classmates heading in the direction of my house, and either they didn’t see, or didn’t recognize, Mom as she pulled me to Perfect Pitch’s.

Mom knocked on her door, while I stayed in the wagon, sitting on the ‘comfortable’ vinyl seat that I could feel the springs through. My mind was definitely made up – as soon as I started receiving royalties from my song, I was buying a luxurious new Packard.

The door opened and Mom stepped inside. I looked up and down the block, and when the coast was clear I dashed for the house as well, slamming the door shut behind me. “Sorry!” I hadn’t meant to slam the door, but when you’re galloping flat out and grab it as you run past, that kinda happens whether you want it to or not.

After bringing Perfect Pitch up to speed on what had happened, her advice was, “I think you should talk with Carol Sing.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Doesn’t she live across the country in Manehattan? It’s not like I can magically call out her name and she’ll come running. Carol Sing! Carol Sing, where are you?”

“Winter, spring, summer, or fall, all you have to do is call. And I’ll be there.”

I recognized the song and the voice immediately. I facehoofed. You’ve got to be kidding me. Carol Sing is in this house right now and I just stuck my hoof in my mouth. Way to make a great first impression, Sunny.

“You’ve got a friend.” Perfect and Carol chorused as the latter stepped into the room.

“Sunny Rays, this is my daughter, Carol Sing. You’ve been practicing a number of her original compositions. Carol, this is Sunny Rays, whom I’ve told you so much about these past few months.”

Carol Sing is her daughter? I didn’t just stick one hoof in my mouth – I stuck all four of them in there at once. My normally yellow coat had turned pink from how badly I was blushing. “Hi.” I curtseyed. “As you can probably guess, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.”

“She’s adorable.” Carol patted my head and took a seat on the couch. “Sunny, what do you know about remakes?”

“That ponies either really like them, or really hate them.”

“What else?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“In order to record a remake, one must pay royalties. It’s also generally considered good business practice to ask in advance, though there are those who don’t. Svengallop is a weasel, but he’s upfront when it comes to contracts. I had my lawyers look through it and he isn’t trying to pull one over on me. What that means is I had to give him permission to release a cover of my song. I’ve known this was coming for two months. I’ve been here a few weeks now, waiting for this day. I listened to your last few sessions. I think you’re progressing quite nicely.”

I blushed at her praise. “Thank you! But the band? All I did was vocals.”

“He probably used Coloratura’s backing band. He’s too cheap to hire you a band of your own just yet. Once the instrumental track was laid down, he would have laid your vocal track over it. Then presto, it’s a song.”

“That makes sense.”

“Now let me ask you a question – would you mind if I took a look at your contract? I’ve signed my share of recording contracts over the years, and if I can’t make heads or tails of it, I’ll have my lawyers look at it.”

“Sure.”

“I’ve been in the music industry for decades. There are very few producers out there who aren’t trying to take advantage of starry-eyed foals, and Svengallop’s one of the worst.”

Since the contract was back at our house, Carol and Perfect Pitch had to come home with us. I was embarrassed as Carol Sing climbed into my family’s beat-up old Studebaker wagon. My mind was already made up that I’d be getting us a Packard, and if my parents tried to argue, I’d cite this example. Mom pulled us home, and much as I’d suspected, there was a crowd gathered outside our house.

I don’t know what they’d been expecting, but it probably wasn’t Carol Sing. She stepped out of the wagon and I fluttered out after her, landing on her back as she instructed me to. She started singing, and I joined her. Our voices complemented each other, which was good since we had no instruments accompanying us. The dozens of ponies watching got one song – that was it. That was enough for most of them, many of whom were my classmates. The crowd dispersed, and we shooed the stragglers away.

Once we had privacy, I brought out my recording contract for Carol to look through. Her face scrunched up in thought as she read and reread the contract. Finally, she shook her head. “You’ve got two ways out of this contract. The first is to buy it out. Assuming you have a string of hits, it’ll still be years until you have enough money to do that. The other way out is to perform below expectations. If you’re not making him enough money, he’ll let you go, which will close almost every other door available to you. Svengallop is slime, but he knows talent. If he can’t make you a star, every other talent agent is going to avoid you like a plague. Your career would effectively be over before it even begins. So sabotaging yourself to get out of your contract would only hurt you in the end. He’ll find somepony else. There’s no shortage of naïve, starry-eyed fillies or desperate has-beens waiting in the wings.”

“There’s always the weather team.” My words were hollow. I couldn’t figure out why clearing clouds had suddenly lost all appeal. My mark is for clearing clouds, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

When did music become my life? And why isn’t that bothering me? Weather work is a family tradition… But I was singing when my mark came in. Singing a song about the sun, at that. If only there were ponies skilled at deciphering cutie marks.

“Another thing you might want to consider is learning an instrument. Many vocalists prefer the guitar or bass, though notable vocalists Superstar and Filly Collins are drummers. I play the keyboards, personally. While I wouldn’t urge you to pick one over the other, you already know a great piano teacher. She taught me everything I know.”

Perfect Pitch smiled. “I’d be happy to teach you how to play.”

How deep am I going to fall down the music rabbit hole? I don’t know, but I do know I haven’t hit the bottom just yet. “Mom? Can I take piano lessons?”

Mom grinned. “I think that can be arranged.”

I had natural talent when it came to singing. The same couldn’t be said of the piano. At first, I’d eagerly looked forward to my piano lessons, but I’d quickly come to loathe them. Perfect Pitch and Carol Sing made it look so easy, but it was anything but.

I’d improved, slowly but steadily. I’d considered changing to a different instrument, but that would mean leaving Perfect Pitch’s instruction. I liked working with her, so I endured the lessons. They would be useful later – a fact I kept reminding myself of again and again. So many times, I almost started to believe it.

I played my composition straight through for the fifth time. I’d spent weeks tweaking it, and I was finally happy with it. After five plays straight through without a missed note, Perfect Pitch was also pleased with it. She started the recorder on the sixth play.

An original composition, on which I played piano and sang lead vocals – it was an entirely different demo than the cover I’d last sent in. That one had climbed the charts, peaking at number seven. Svengallop was expecting an album to cash in on the success of my first song. I’d already recorded half a dozen additional covers, and I was hoping to have a few of my originals make the cut too. I’d reworked Warmth Of The Sun, but Perfect Pitch advised me against sending that one to Svengallop. I’d written and originally recorded that song before signing my contract with him. He had no claim on it, and Perfect was adamant that he not get his hooves on it.

I’d only managed to get one of my original compositions on the album. I wanted one song to call my own, but the rest were all covers. Partially on the advice of Perfect Pitch, and partially because I was still new to composing, but mostly due to the fact I needed to put out an album immediately to capitalize on the success of the single. Quite a few of my first drafts were embarrassingly bad. I’d polished one of those drafts into The Sun Shines Brightest When I’m With You.

I was so proud of that song – I wrote it, I sang it, and I even played the piano on it. I envisioned it as a power ballad, with a totally buckin’ guitar solo and an epic drumbeat. Svengallop turned it into… glitch hop. Distorted to the extreme, a song I crafted with my own hooves turned into something I was ashamed of.

It wasn’t mine. The words were mine; or to be more accurate, the words that remained after two whole verses were cut out were mine. What was left of the tune was mine. But the end result was awful. I listened to it exactly once, my jaw hanging open the whole time. At first because I was amazed I’d gotten another song on the radio, and then because it was nothing at all like I imagined it in my head.

To Svengallop’s credit, it performed well on the charts. He had the frog of his hoof on the pulse of the music industry. Glitch hop was popular, and power ballads were passé. If I wanted to open for Coloratura, I had to pursue a career that mirrored hers. Glitching and distortions were mandatory. If I wanted to open for Journeigh, Svengallop would flat out drop me – he had no interest in ‘oldies’ acts. Except, of course, for mining their back catalogs for potential reimaginings guaranteed to be hits.

I sighed as I forced myself to listen to the abomination for the second time. I knew the song inside and out, but I didn’t know what my audience was expecting. There was a unicorn who’d handle the glitching – the same one that helped Coloratura with the distortions in her songs.

I reset the needle on the record player, and the tune started playing yet again. This time I didn’t flatten my ears. The second and third verses were gone, while the first and fourth had been blended in a way that made the lyrics nonsensical. The chorus had mostly stayed the same, the only addition being an echoing effect that I actually liked. Not what I imagined when I wrote it, but worth keeping if I ever managed to perform the song as written.

The rest of my repertoire was comprised entirely of cover songs. Perfect Pitch had picked the songs, and they’d been from all different genres: swing, country, disco, and of course rock. I was singing songs everypony knew, but performing them in a style that ponies who hadn’t been around when they were written could enjoy them as part of their own generation’s music.

I spent the rest of the day trying to learn to like my own album.

Svengallop had hired me a band. He’d selected fillies approximately my own age to back me, and it was finally time to meet them.

A pegasus filly curtseyed and introduced herself as Jazz Hooves. She would be singing backup vocals, and playing assorted instruments throughout the concert. The next was the drummer – a rainbow-haired white unicorn by the name of Glow Stick. My guitarist was a pinkish-purple unicorn named Mirror Ball – she had a disco mirror ball emblazoned on her flank. My bass player was Love Song, a mint green pegasus with turquoise and purple hair, and a 45 record cutie mark. I’d be handling the keyboards personally.

Svengallop had selected them a month ago, and they’d all been practicing, solo, since then. It was time for our first practice together. That would be nerve-wracking enough on its own, but our first concert was mere hours away. As the opening act, we had a set list of ten songs, and one encore. My album only had twelve songs. We could play almost everything on my album, which the fillies had prepared for, or I could shake things up a bit.

My plan was simple: we’d open with my latest hit, The Sun Shines Brightest When I’m With You. We’d work my other hit, So Far Away, into the middle of the concert, and repeat The Sun Shines Brightest When I’m With You as an encore. I had eight slots open, and four brand new bandmates I wanted to make a good impression on.

There was a chalkboard in the practice room, and I scribbled down numbers one through eleven, then filled in the first, sixth, and eleventh entries. Love Song was closest to me, and I turned to her. “What’s your favorite song off my album?”

“Uh, I kinda like Love Is All Around.”

I scribbled that into the second slot. “And your favorite song in general?”

“Aftermath’s Pull Me Through.”

I put it into the tenth slot and turned to Mirror Ball. “Same questions.”

“Love Train and Peak Freak’s Shine.”

I jotted Shine into the third spot and Love Train into the ninth. I looked at Jazz Hooves and she answered without me even asking.

“Memories and Vylet’s Historia de Equestria.”

Fourth and eighth were filled in, leaving just two spots left.

Glow Stick responded to my unasked question. “Roar and Aviators’ Reach.”

With the fifth and seventh positions filled, we officially had a set list. “We’ve only got the rest of the morning and the afternoon to learn these songs. We can get to know each other better when Coloratura steps off stage later tonight, but right now we have to focus on getting the songs right.”

We started practicing with The Sun Shines Brightest When I’m With You. If anypony in the audience is here to see me, and not Countess Coloratura, this is the song they want to hear. To say ‘it went poorly’ would be an understatement along the lines of saying ‘the sun is warm’. I stopped it halfway through. Glow Stick’s drumming was at a much faster pace than the rest of us. Jazz Hooves was trying to drown me out. Love Song and Mirror Ball were trying to outdo one another in putting on a show, moving around the stage and throwing the rest of us off our rhythm. In short, we looked and sounded like the amateurs we were.

I groaned as I stopped singing. It took thirty seconds for the others to realize the pianist/lead vocalist had quit halfway through the song. One by one the others came to a stop, embarrassed expressions on all their faces. “Well, that was a thing that just happened. Let’s… not repeat that. This time, how about we do it in harmony?”

Take two made it to the end of the song. The best I could say about our first full run-through was that it was better than the album cut. I despise the album cut – so much so that I’d rather listen to a violin going through an incinerator. Our glitcher hadn’t arrived, so the music actually sounded more like I’d originally envisioned it.

But it was still awful.

But that was the whole point of practicing – when you have lots of room for improvement, it makes it easier to get better. I didn’t care if we mangled some of my other songs, but we needed to get The Sun Shines Brightest When I’m With You right. Not only because it was my signature tune, but also because I wrote it.

One thing I noticed was that as we moved on to another song, it didn’t take as long to get it down pat. The improvements we’d made in working together on the first cut translated to the later songs. Pacing was still a bit of a problem, mostly because everypony had practiced the songs solo.

We had a fully-catered lunch at noon. My hopes for a short break were dashed, as the meal ate into our practice time. The minutes ticked away, and once practice started up again, we’d lost ground. Overindulging on lunch had made the rest of the band lethargic.

While the others were taking a potty break, I made it very clear that no more food was to be brought in until after the concert. Love Song, Jazz Hooves, and I shook it off first, pegasus metabolism coming to our rescue. We’d lost the better part of an hour to lackluster practicing. Frustrated, I walked over to my keyboard and started mashing the keys at random while letting out a scream.

Glow Stick started pounding the drums. If I thought she was fast before, she proved then and there that she’d been restraining herself up 'til now – even on the first, aborted try. Her drumsticks were naught but a blur.

Not to be outdone, Love Song and Mirror Ball started shredding. Jazz Hooves had no instrument to play, and instead cranked her background vocals up to eleven, belting out the lyrics to I’ll Come Running. She had a powerful soprano voice, and while she couldn’t hit the notes I could, she had far more intensity.

Ten minutes later we were panting for breath. We’d poured everything we had into the impromptu jam session. If nothing else, it had energized everypony out of the food coma we’d fallen into.

It was time to move on to another song. With our schedule growing tighter by the minute, I opted to start practicing everypony’s favorite songs, since the material was unfamiliar. What kind of idiot waits until the last second to put a band together? Making things infuriating was the fact Svengallop had probably had them all sign contracts with him too, and probably had done so quite some time ago. So why am I only now meeting these ponies for the first time on the day of my first concert?

The time crunch had forced us to improve at a rapid pace. By the time the concert started, we weren’t awful. There was room for improvement, but we’d managed mediocrity. The songs that needed to be done well were passable. The rest were hit and miss, but the glitching hid some of the errors. Not that it mattered much – almost nopony in the audience was there to see us, anyway.

As the last notes of our encore faded away there was enthusiastic stomping. I sincerely hoped it was for our performance, and not because they were thrilled we were done for the night. Of course, their volume only increased as Countess Coloratura took the stage. Even though I’d spent almost the entire day singing, I added my own hoarse voice to the cacophony – I wanted to see her just as badly as the audience.

Like my bandmates, I was hungry, sweaty, and exhausted, but riveted to the side of the stage, watching the hottest popstar in Equestria give it her all. Part of me was fangirling, while the logical part of my brain was taking notes on what I’d need to do if I wanted to be more than a flash in the pan.

Countess Coloratura was electrifying – moving across the stage and dancing. Her cutie mark glowed during parts of her show, and I sincerely doubted it was a visual effect. I looked back at the trio of suns on my own cutie mark. They’d never lit up once that I was aware of, but it would certainly be appropriate if they did. This was a mare in her element, and she made our performance look pitiful in comparison. I think the rest of the band had the same thought, as I could almost sense the steely determination to improve amongst them.

I looked out over the audience – they were transfixed by the performance. The first five rows were filled with schoolponies. I recognized one entire row as my own classmates, and I had a hunch that the other four rows corresponded to each of my bandmates. Coloratura was adamant that she be allowed to meet with students prior to her concerts, and it seems our classmates were the lucky recipients of her attention this time around. Coloratura’s signature hoofsies decorating their cheeks confirmed it.

Dinner was served, and we all opted to eat it while sitting offstage, watching Rara’s show. Premium seating for my favorite singer’s concert and all-I-can-eat broccoli bites – what could be better?

The concert eventually ended after three encores and a fireworks display. There was just enough time during the pyrotechnics for Coloratura to grab a quick bite to eat while a pair of roadies wiped the sweat from her.

Then she and I signed autographs until well after midnight, when the last pony finally left.

It was amazing how much could change in a short span of time. The first horseshoe to drop was Countess Coloratura firing Svengallop. He tried to pass it off as him dumping her, to focus on me, but I knew the truth. Coloratura and I had continued corresponding. She bought out her contract, but Svengallop was fighting it. As such, he was spending a lot of his time meeting with lawyers, scheming ways to ruin her.

The second was Coloratura taking time off from the music industry to focus on rebranding herself from scratch, not to mention dealing with the ensuing legal battle. It left her with a lack of time to write and/or record new music, or to go on tour. There was a hole on the charts we were perfectly positioned to fill.

The third was that Svengallop wanted Coloratura to fail spectacularly, so he promoted us heavily. Like him or not, he had connections that we didn’t. He called in favors to make sure our album was in heavy rotation on every radio station that mattered.

The last was that he was so blinded by rage that he left us alone for the most part. It meant we recorded the album our way – with no glitches or distortions.

It was the perfect storm, and the end result was that Sunny Rays and the Sunbeams made it to the top of the charts. My second album, The Perfect Storm, debuted at number three, moved to number one the next week, and then stayed there for two months. A record we all had input on, it was one of Love Song’s tunes that became the biggest hit: Stormy Night. A song that despite its name, wasn’t about a storm at all, rather a bad breakup.

I bought my parents a Packard to replace the one I’d bought them when my first album went up the charts. This time, I’d become a big enough star to get one custom-ordered. But that was the extent of my frivolous spending – I needed something big and flashy so Svengallop wouldn’t suspect my true goal. He didn’t like it when his stars weren’t spending money on lavish, gaudy trinkets.

The bulk of my share of the proceeds went straight into my savings, with the eventual goal of buying out our contract as Coloratura had done. I’d realized I wasn’t willing to leave my bandmates behind, so I’d need to save more money to get us all out of our various deals with Svengallop. If any of the others wanted to stay on with him, that was their choice, but the option to come with me was one I intended to leave open for all of them.

I’d moved in with my grandparents to be closer to the rest of the band. Everypony else lived in either Seaddle or Tackoma, and I was hundreds of miles away in Horsevallis. I wasn’t particularly close to my father or siblings, anyway; a fact that had only been exacerbated by spending so much time on the road without them. When I traveled, only Mom went with me. I tried to get home at least once a month, but it didn’t always work out that way.

I grabbed the mail as I walked into my grandparents’ house. I left the water bill in my Grandpa’s study, and tossed the junk mail concerning our cart’s extended warranty in the trash where it belonged. The highlight, though, was a letter from Coloratura. I ripped open the envelope and started reading it.

Sunny Rays,

You asked why I hate The Spectacle so much. This song represents everything about myself that I came to hate. Imagine being fed a constant diet of praise, being told how amazing you are 24/7. Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? It is, right up until you find that you’re losing yourself to a lie. When you start thinking you’re ‘bigger than Celestia’ you’ve succumbed to it. It took an old friend to snap me out of it; to remind me of who I am and what I stand for. I’m not a spectacle, I’m just plain old Rara.

If you ever need somepony to buck the stupid out of you, I’ll send my friend Applejack over. She’ll give you the honest truth, whether you want to hear it or not.

Hoofsies,
Rara

I immediately penned my response:

Rara,

I understand entirely. But there are ponies who still like it, so the song itself isn’t without merit. Would you consider letting me cover it on my next album?

Your faithful student,
Sunny Rays

Sunny Rays,

I’ll give you permission on one condition: you let me do a cover of one of your songs. Not right now, and I don’t know what song, but someday after you’ve put out some more hits, I’m reserving the right to pick one of my choice to cover.

Hoofsies,
Rara

P.S.: You’re not Twilight Sparkle, and you’re not my student.

Coloratura’s idea of granting a favor was to do it, on the condition that she would do me another favor at a later date. My response was short and to the point.

Rara,

Deal!

Your faithful student,
Sunny Rays

P.S.: You may not be Princess Celestia, but you’re as much my mentor as she was Twilight Sparkle’s. You discovered me when I was a filly with a little ditty that got played on the local radio station a few times, and for that you have my eternal thanks and respect.

I wanted to take Svengallop by surprise, so I’d sprung it on my band at the last possible second. Three of four accepted the buyout. The lone holdout was Jazz Hooves, and I could already see the gears turning in her head that she could replace me, just as I’d replaced Countess Coloratura, and she’d replaced Sapphire Shores…

More power to her if she could. Coloratura’s newest album was weeks away from launch, and her new musical direction was being hyped. ‘Coloratura as you’ve never heard her before!’ ‘The Countess is gone, call me Rara!’ I’d already heard it in its entirety, one of the perks of being Coloratura’s friend. It was a great album, and it was going to do well on the charts. Those who’d written her off as a ‘has-been’ based on Svengallop’s lies were going to be proven wrong, and I had no doubt she’d reclaim the title of most popular musician in Equestria. From me.

Svengallop was expecting a new album from us to go hoof-to-hoof with Coloratura’s. We hadn’t been working on one. Each of us was, of course, working on our own musical projects, but there’d been no collaboration between any of us, intentionally on my part.

I trotted into his office and sat on the lumpy pile of pillows across the desk from him. His luxurious chair was positioned so that he could look down upon those that visited him. A pair of ponies in immaculately tailored suits followed me, and stood behind me. “Svengallop, I’m here to buy out my contract like Rara did.” I used her nickname, because he despised it.

He peered over his glasses at me, like I was an insignificant gnat unworthy of his time. In his mind, I probably was. “You can’t afford it.”

One of my lawyers flicked open his briefcase and pulled a check out, then levitated it over to Svengallop.

“Interesting, I didn’t think you had this much money to your name. Fine, if you don’t want the gift I’ve bestowed upon you, I’ll find somepony else who does. I’ll accept your offer, but it’ll cost you. In addition to this check, I expect an album, as promised. You better make it count, because when I’m done with you you’ll never work in the recording industry again. You’ll be flipping hayburgers before the decade’s out.”

“That would be a step up from working with you.” I flicked my tail as I turned and walked out of his office. My lawyers could take care of the details. I had a band to return to.

Jazz Hooves had already left by the time I got back, and she refused to join us in the studio as we recorded our album. We cobbled together some original songs from the outtakes we’d had left over from our first studio sessions. Svengallop already knew about those songs, so there was no point in withholding them, because he certainly wasn’t going to let us take them with us when we left. The rest of the album was made up of covers. We weren’t bringing our best material to the table; we wanted to hold it for our next album, when we’d be the ones to reap the rewards instead of Svengallop. So the cover songs were where we put in the most effort – we needed at least one of them to be a hit so we’d stay relevant on the charts. But I knew what we were up against – Coloratura’s first album as an independent was going to do exceedingly well. We’d have to be free of Svengallop’s influence to be able to put out something of similar quality.

I’d already determined that we’d cover The Spectacle. I knew how much she’d grown to loathe that song, but it had been a huge hit and ponies still liked it even if she didn’t. She had loved the idea of the song being associated with somepony other than her, so she granted her permission immediately. Svengallop owned the rights to the song, so I knew he wouldn’t object. He loved money – he wouldn’t object to getting more bits.

With one cover firmly in place, I turned things over to my band. My suggestion was that we record the songs we’d covered in our first ever concert. That was met with resistance from Love Song. She suggested we pick obscure filler tracks and try to make them hits.

Before we could start arguing about it, I raised my hoof. “We have twelve slots on the album. We can salvage four tracks from our outtakes, do the four covers from our first concert, and pick four obscure songs to make into our own.”

There were no objections to my compromise and I breathed a sigh of relief. We’d already lost Jazz Hooves, and Svengallop would no doubt try and ruin our careers as he’d been trying to ruin Coloratura’s. Petty in-fighting would have been the end of the band. When everything’s hanging by a thread, scissors are the wrong tool.

Mirror Ball had pulled the master record with our outtakes from the vault and we listened to them. Nothing jumped out at us as a great starting point. These tracks had been left on the cutting room floor for a reason.

“Play that third one again, mate. I got me an idea.”

Mirror Ball put the needle into the groove and Glow Stick started wailing on her drums. “I want you to imagine this song with this beat.” She’d reimagined a bland mid-tempo ballad as a punk song. And it worked better than it had any right to.

The rest of us nodded our heads. “Well then, what’s wrong with the rest of this dreck?” I played the first track again. “Starting with this one.”

“The lyrics.”

I cringed at Love Song’s suggestion. I’d written the song, after all. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well…” She hummed the song’s chorus. “For starters, you’re way too fond of happy, sunny lyrics. What if we take this up-tempo and give it mournful lyrics about a lost love?”

I’m too fond of sunny lyrics, and you’re too fond of love songs. I dared not voice those thoughts. Love Song’s the best lyricist I know, and songs about love sell. “All right, make it happen.” I wasn’t fond of that song, anyway.

“Let’s try…” Her tongue poked out the corner of her mouth as she scribbled some lyrics.

Moonlight; lying in bed

Can’t get you outta my head

“And that can come back to haunt the song’s protagonist at work the next day.” More lyrics were scribbled.

Sunlight; I’m falling behind

Gotta get you offa my mind

I wasn’t sure they were great, but I gladly conceded they were better than what I’d come up with.

Wish I’d known then what I now know

Why did I ever let you go?

“That’ll be the chorus. I still need to fill in the lyrics, but it’s a start. I think that’ll be the title, too: Why Did I Ever Let You Go?”

The rest of us just watched her work, offering suggestions whenever she stopped. The new lyrics changed the melody of the song, and despite our best efforts, something new rose from the ashes of my silly little song about cantering on the beach on a sunny day.

“Let’s go back to my original lyrics.” My bandmates turned to look at me like I was nuts. “This is too good to waste on any album Svengallop is involved with.”

The others nodded. “What else is wrong with my song? It’s garbage, it’s okay to say it. If it wasn’t, it would’ve been on our last album.”

“The cheeky bugger doesn’t have any beat, mate.” Glow Stick banged on her drums for emphasis.

“All right. Give it the most inappropriate beat for the lyrics you can think of. The song’s awful. Let’s make it so bad that it’s ironically good.”

“Deliciously cheesy, even,” Love Song added.

“Glitch the Tartarus out of it and dedicate it to Svenny.”

We all laughed at Mirror Ball’s suggestion. “Glitching it is.”

Once we’d determined that song was to be a hate sink, we threw everything at it. Four-chord song? Why not? Extra nonsensical background lyrics that get repeated a zillion times? ‘Na na na na na na na na na…’ Of course! We loaded it up with everything we hated, and joked that it would probably end up being our biggest hit.

Oddly, it became a great source of inspiration. Discussion of the things we loathed turned into discussion of the things we loved. Some of the things we tossed at it stuck to other songs instead. The album was quickly shaping up to be one of the oddest, least consistent records of all time. I’d originally intended Sun On The Beach to be a doo-wop song. So we made it into doo-wop glitch. Glitch-wop? The truly awful song’s worst curse was that it was a total earworm. We all agreed it should be the last track on the LP. That way it would be avoidable.

With the creativity flowing, I knew that we’d have no trouble meeting Svengallop’s deadline for a new album.

Even though our previous album was still on the charts, we wanted to get our new album out as soon as possible. The lead single was Love Song’s Why Did I Ever Let You Go? Even though the album hadn't been released yet, the song had gone to number one almost immediately. Then it stayed there. Weeks went by, then months.

We had a second single ready to go as soon as the first dropped off the charts, which would give us enough time to get the record finished. Sun In My Eyes was the last track that needed to be recorded, a piece Love Song had written to showcase my soaring soprano.

We started practicing it and I struggled to hit the notes. It was so bad the rest of the band stopped playing. Love Song glared at me and told me to stop goofing around.

The problem was I wasn’t joking. I switched to singing one of my other tunes and couldn’t hit the high notes on that one either.

That’s when the others became concerned I might be coming down with a cold, but I assured them I felt fine. I just couldn’t sing. It was distressing, so I did the only thing I could – I took the next train back to Horsevallis.

I’d gotten in late the night before. Suffice it to say my parents were surprised to see me.

Perfect Pitch was even more surprised to find me on her doorstep. She’d retired from giving vocal and piano lessons, but she let me in anyway.

With tears in my eyes I explained how I couldn’t sing.

She just chuckled as she boiled water for tea. “How old are you, dearie?”

“Twelve. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Your body’s going through the changes.”

“What changes?

“You’re growing up. There are a lot of differences between fillies and mares. Your voice is getting lower. The normal slide is about half an octave, but your range was always higher than normal. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you drop an entire octave, maybe more.”

“What other changes are there between fillies and mares?”

“Answering that goes well beyond my qualifications as a music teacher. But rest assured, your parents should be able to tell you all about puberty.”

I drank my tea in silence as Perfect Pitch offered suggestions on how I should continue my career.

My head was still spinning when I walked into the house. I’d spent hours at Perfect’s, and I still couldn’t believe I’d never be able to hit my trademark soaring soprano notes ever again. Dad was sitting at the dining room table, reading the paper and drinking coffee.

“Dad, what’s a puberty?”

He spit his coffee across the room, took one look at me, and tried to jump through the window, a classic pegasus escape maneuver. Except the window was small, and my father wasn’t as thin as he used to be. He’d fallen out of shape since the last time I’d been home, months earlier. How can he push clouds dragging around all that extra weight?

“Sweetheart, Daddy’s stuck. Could you maybe give me a push?”

Since Dad wasn’t going anywhere, I walked outside and sat down in front of him. “Not until you tell me what a puberty is.”

“Ask your mother.”

I stomped a hoof. “But she’s not home and I want to know now.”

“Well, uh… you see. When a filly gets to be a certain age, she um… well, she becomes a mare.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “Just like that.”

“So I don’t have to do anything?”

“Nope. It all happens on its own. It’s nothing to worry about. Perfectly natural.”

“So what’s going to happen to me?”

“You’ll be a mare.”

“Yeah, I get that, Dad. But what are the differences between a filly and a mare?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask your mother. I could tell you all about the changes from colt to stallion.”

“Okay, go ahead.”

“I could, but, um, er, but that isn’t going to help you.”

“Oh. Well, Mom’s not home, and I’ve got time.”

Dad’s face flushed even redder than it had been. Poor guy is really out of shape if just talking is getting him out of breath.

“To start with, a colt’s voice is a lot higher than a stallion’s. Think about how your brother sounds compared to me.”

I nodded. “My voice is getting lower too, so maybe all the things colts go through happen to fillies too? Keep going!”

“Actually… they’re very different. Like completely different.”

“How would you know they’re different? You said you don’t know anything about fillies and mares, and my voice is getting lower too. So maybe they’re exactly the same and you don’t know it because you never asked!”

“Knock, knock!”

I turned my head and Cookie Delight appeared with a tray full of cookies. “Couldn’t help overhearing my favorite crooner is back in town. Why don’t you have a few cookies while I help your father out of this window?”

“Okay.” I sat on the couch, munching on chocolate chip cookies while I watched our neighbor try to extricate my Dad from the window frame without much luck.

Mom arrived. My siblings materialized out of thin air when the fire department showed up, sitting on the couch next to me as we watched the firefighters cut the window out of the house to get Dad unstuck.

With everything going on, I never got the answer to my question.

My alarm clock blared and I cracked an eye open. Is it noon already?

I’d abandoned the Seaddle music scene and moved back in with my parents. Unlike my siblings, I’d dropped out of school. I had my cutie mark, and hence the option to apprentice in my chosen field. I’d skipped the apprenticeship, and jumped right into a career in the music industry. Even though my career had stalled out, I’d saved the bits from my last album, and I still made enough in royalties that I’d never have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to.

I stayed in bed, snuggled under the mountain of blankets. The radio station my alarm was tuned to was in the middle of a commercial break. Even in my hometown, I rarely heard any stations play my music anymore. I hadn’t had a hit since my voice changed, so the channels that focused on the current hot songs hadn’t played me in a few years. Considering I hadn’t even had my Sweet 16 birthday yet, my music wasn’t old enough to play on oldies stations. Once my songs dropped off the charts, there wasn’t a dedicated channel to play them. At least not in Horsevallis, though the amount of royalties I was getting from airplay indicated they were getting played somewhere.

My band had scattered to the winds. Jazz Hooves had a short run of minor hits, though even with Svengallop’s help she’d struggled to gain traction on the charts. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d dropped her in favor of somepony new.

The others had found different bands to work with. Love Song had found a home with Mare Supply, the undisputed masters of love songs. Mirror Ball and Glow Stick had gone on to be session musicians, unaffiliated with any one act.

The commercial break ended, and a new song started playing.

Come on Sky Dream. Come on Sky Dream. Poor old Sunny Rays, sounded sad upon the radio, she broke a million hearts in mono…

I blinked. What do they mean ‘poor old Sunny Rays’? I’m not even sixteen! I sighed. Such was the life of a popstar – I was already washed up, just like Sapphire Shores.

Come on Sky Dream… Toola Roola, Toola Roola, hey…

The song ended and I waited for the disc jockey to give me the artist’s name.

“That was Expys Midnight Trotters with their new hit Come On Sky Dream available now on Svengallop Records.”

My head hit my desk as I slumped in defeat. Of course Svengallop is involved. He’s got a new act and he’s using them to take potshots at me. Well, that’s it. I’ve been officially put out to pasture now. I looked at the material on my desk – I had enough songs for a new album, this time something more to my own taste.

By all accounts, puberty had been kind to me. I could look in the mirror and see it. There was no shortage of ponies that wanted to date me.

Puberty had been kind to me… in everything except for the one thing that really mattered: my voice had betrayed me. All voices got lower as ponies aged. That was an undisputed fact of life. But filly voices weren’t supposed to drop two whole octaves during puberty. I couldn’t reach the notes that I’d hit just a few years earlier.

This day can’t get any worse. I shut the radio off and trudged down to the kitchen to get breakfast. ‘Lunch’ might be the more appropriate word, considering it was just past noon.

Mom was sitting on the couch, a dazed expression on her face. Dried tears matted her face. My siblings were in school, and I had no idea where Dad was, but I knew Mom should’ve been at work. “Are you okay, Mom?”

“Your father’s gone.”

“What happened?” I immediately feared the worst – he had gone out yesterday and hadn’t come home. I’d been up until well into the wee hours of the morning and there was no sign of him when I went to bed.

“I found this on the doorstep.” She motioned to a basket sitting on the sofa next to her.

“Cookies!” I grabbed an oatmeal raisin cookie with my wing and stuffed it in my mouth. I recognized Cookie Delight’s baking instantly.

Mom held up a sheet of paper. “It seems your father and Miss Delight have run off together.”

I suddenly found it hard to enjoy the cookie I was eating. “Why?”

“Your father and I have had… difficulties lately.”

I shook my head. “I know that. I’m more curious as to why would Cookie Delight would run off with Dad. I don’t know why you bothered staying with him. He’s been freeloading since I hit it big, and on top of that he really let himself go these past few years. Can he even get off the ground anymore? She can do better than him. So can you. I hate to say it, but honestly… good riddance to the lazy bum.”

“Looks aren’t everything, Sunny. Just because you’re young and pretty right now doesn’t mean you’ll always be. Would you like to know what some mares find more attractive than looks?”

“Personality?”

Mom laughed. It was a bitter, mirthless sound. “In your dreams.”

“A good sense of humor?”

“Money. Lots and lots of money. It’s a good thing you weren’t planning on continuing your education, because your college fund just flew the coop. The first thing I did this morning when I found the basket was go to the bank. Your father cleared your account down to the minimum balance. It was a joint account we set up when you were eight, so he had the authorization to do it. I closed that account, and the remaining bits are on the table. You can go to the bank and set up a new account – one that only you have access to.” She buried her face in her hooves. “I’m so sorry, Sunny. I know you were saving those bits for a rainy day. This… this shouldn’t have happened.”

My indifference to his leaving quickly changed to shock, then rage. I was shaking with anger as I slammed the door behind me.

Mom reopened the door. “Where are you going?”

“To the train station. I’m going to find him, and I’m getting my money back.” I paused. “Just so you know, I’m not angry at you.”

“Wait! I’m coming with you.”

“What about Stormy and Iris?”

“We’ll get them on the way.”

We stopped at the school so Mom could pull Storm Front and Iris Mist out of their classes, and then the four of us headed to the train station. I marched up to the counter.

“Oh my gosh! Sunny Rays!”

“Yes. I’m looking for a stallion and a mare.” I slapped a picture of my father on the ticket counter. “Picture this guy, about five years older and significantly fatter. He’s hard to miss. Travelling with a pink earth pony, about a third his size, with a cookie cutter cutie mark.”

He nodded. “They came in last night and bought tickets to Trottingham. Would you like four tickets?”

I shook my head. Trottingham was on the opposite end of Equestria. They had the option to get off at any stop between here and there, and they had almost a full day’s head start. I briefly considered hiring the fastest airship in the airdocks, but he hadn’t left me with enough money to afford it. “Four tickets to Canterlot, please.” There was more than one way to paint a picture.

I’d used my celebrity status to gain an audience with the princess. She agreed that the bits were intended to be ‘in trust’ for me, and that my sire had stolen them.

The Royal Guards were alerted and towns across the country were checked. There had been tantalizing tidbits of places he’d been, but none for where he was currently. The trail had grown cold, and it was theorized that he’d left Equestria entirely, possibly for Klugetown.

What it all boiled down to was my nest egg was gone. Residuals still gave me a healthy income, but there were no guarantees my past successes would continue generating revenue.

I looked at the songs I’d written for a new album. I’d composed them to account for my lower voice, but every time I tried singing them, I imagined a soaring soprano instead. My options were to cut the record and hope my fans would accept me for who I’d grown into… or get a real job.

How could I ask my fans to accept the new me when I couldn’t even accept myself?

Which was how I found myself managing the Yakyakima Weather Team. A predominantly yak settlement northwest of Horsevallis, and southwest of Seaddle, it was a two-hour flight from home each way.

The first thing I learned about yaks was that they had no interest in pony pop culture. The second thing I learned was that yaks really like breaking things. Most yaks had never heard one of my songs, but they all enjoyed watching ‘flying pony smash clouds’.

It was hard to believe that at one point in my life I’d dreamed of being a weather manager. I’d accomplished that goal easily. Far too easily, considering my family’s connections. Mom was absolutely thrilled at the idea of me continuing the family tradition, and abandoning my plans to put out another album. Nepotism was alive and well, though while I’d gotten the position ahead of better qualified candidates, I was truly good at the job, or I wouldn’t have kept it long. Even without years of experience, I could do the job in my sleep. Weatherbreaking really does run in my blood.

I had an office that I didn’t use much, except when I had to do paperwork. I much preferred to be out in the sky with my team, and I’d hired a secretary to take care of the rest. In short, I was living the pegasus dream, but I was unhappy. Music had truly taken over my life in ways I never would’ve expected.

I glided across Horsevallis, my home in sight. I landed and trotted through the kitchen door. Mom had made cream of broccoli soup, and I grabbed a bowl and served myself from the leftovers. It was cold, but after a long day in the sky, I didn’t care. I carried dinner to my room and laid down on my bed, my sore muscles eager for rest.

Iris Mist barged into my room uninvited, as little sisters tend to do. “Sunny! Look at this!” she said excitedly, as she waved a newspaper around.

“I can’t if you keep moving it.” She giggled sheepishly and placed the paper on my bed and I finally looked at it. “Earth?”

“They’ve been talking about it nonstop on the radio today. It’s really cool! There are other ponies out there.”

“It says here that they’re called humans.”

“Humans, yaks, dragons; they’re all ponies in my book.”

I motioned for her to lay down next to me and then draped a wing over her. “Huh, those could be song lyrics. I’m going to make a musician outta you yet.”

“Nuh-uh! I’m gonna be a weather manager, just like you!” She squirmed her way out of the hug and stood on my back, then she preened my wings as I ate.

“Thanks, sis.” Prior to Dad’s disappearance, my siblings barely spoke to me. I was the success story, the overachieving older sister who was hard to follow. I couldn’t blame them – I’d barely been around when they were younger and never had a chance to build rapport with them. After Dad left, they felt sorry for me. I’d had it all and had had it taken from me through no fault of my own. Other, less sunny ponies, might’ve let that get them down.

When she was done preening me, Iris started massaging my back and wings. I moved the mostly empty bowl to my nightstand and stretched out, letting her work the tension out of my wings.

My eyelids drooped as she worked, and I let them slide over my eyes. Earth… A whole new audience that doesn’t have any expectations for what I’m supposed to sound like. Maybe I could go on tour.

I stepped through the portal and into the human world. After shaking off the disorientation, being guided by a guard as a human stepped through the portal on his way to Equestria, I looked around. Earth didn’t look all that much different from Equus. There were rocks and trees; rabbits and squirrels.

More than that, there was potential. This world was mine for the taking. I’d pulled some strings to ensure that I was one of the first ponies through the portal, and I intended to capitalize on that opportunity. I’d packed records of my back catalog, along with all of my notes for future songs. If New York was anything like Manehattan, I’d have no problem finding record executives to talk to. My plan was to suggest releasing translated versions of my songs and going out on tour. But I’d have to prove I was commercially viable. At the very least, having a pony musician on Earth would be a novelty, just like a human musician would be in Equestria. Most importantly, I was first.

The bus was all the colors of the rainbow. I climbed the steps and set my sights on finding a seat. There were a lot of empty seats, but there was a sad-looking mare sitting directly behind the driver. I plopped down next to her. Maybe I can cheer her up. “Hi there! I’m Sunny Rays, nice to meet you!”

“Flitterheart. Nice to meet you too.” She smiled, and I smiled back.

“You look like you’re in need of a friend.” There’d been no squeal of recognition when I introduced myself. That meant I’d have to try harder to make her smile.

Flitterheart chuckled. “There was a time I used to do that too. Seek out the loneliest pony in any gathering, keep them company, and offer my friendship.”

“It’s a great way to make friends.” She nodded, and I continued. “So what made you stop?”

“Life.”

“You can do better than that.”

“My little sister got killed doing something stupid.”

I winced. “Sorry.” Great first impression, Sunny.

“It’s been years. The wound has healed, but it never truly goes away.”

I nodded. “It’s worse without friends.”

“You’re right.”

I shrugged. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“I was so hurt when my friends went away after my sister’s incident.”

“Then they weren’t friends. Whatever your sister did, it couldn’t have been that bad. It’s not like she was Cozy Glow.”

Flitterheart cringed and turned away from me, her cheeks redder than a sunburned mare on the beach. Oh horseapples. No, it can’t be. She can’t possibly be related to… She cut my thoughts off.

“Her name was Cozyheart.”

Oh stars, she is. I hugged her as tight as I could. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. The papers always said she was an orphan.”

“That was the lie she used to get into the School of Friendship.”

“Her crimes aren’t yours. I stand by my original assessment: if your friends abandoned you because of that, they weren’t true friends. I’m very sorry for bringing it up. Can we start over? Hi, I’m Sunny Rays and I have a bad habit of putting my hoof in my mouth. Or, in this case, all four of them at once.”

“Hi Sunny Rays, I’m Flitterheart, and I’m carrying more emotional baggage than anypony you know.”

“Now that we’ve gotten that awkward faux pas out of the way, how about you tell me about Flitterheart. There has to be more to you than just your sister.”

She sighed. “I loved my sister very much. I still do. There will always be a place for her in my heart.”

I coughed.

“Oh, right, me. I’m just your average pegasus mare. Nothing special. Born in West Milfoil, but moved to Salt Lick City after… events beyond my control. I build cloud houses with Habitat For Equinity for homeless pegasi. I’ve never held a job. I wasn’t old enough to get one when they announced Earth, and as soon as the news broke I knew I was coming here the second I was allowed to, so there was no point in getting one. I’m really hoping the rest of my family can join me someday.” She looked at me. “How about you?”

I chuckled. “I guess I’m just your average pegasus mare too. I come from a long line of weatherwranglers, and I was weather manager for the little town of Yakyakima. I enjoy singing, but who doesn’t?”

She giggled. “With a name like that, I’d hope so. So how many ponies come up to you thinking you’re that Sunny Rays?”

“More than you think.”

“That must get so annoying.”

“You have no idea.”

A blue unicorn was working her way through the bus, and she was getting closer to where we were sitting. I decided to steer the conversation away from sensitive topics until I could ascertain the other mare’s intentions.

“Favorite food?”

“Hay fries. Though I really want to try those potato-based fries they have here on Earth. But I think you have to go to France to get them. What about you?”

“Anything spicy. I’ve got a chili recipe that tastes like it’s trying to buck you right in the taste buds. I can’t make it to save my life, but hey, at least I’ve got the recipe.”

She chuckled at that. It was a sweet sound; the gentle sound of a lullaby on a soft breeze. “I’m a pretty good cook. I come from a large family. We love to have picnics and parties, and they’re always potlucks. Everypony can cook. Well, except my Uncle Braveheart. Aunt Treatheart doesn’t let him in the kitchen since the last fire.”

“The last fire. As in, he’s caused more than one?”

“Seven that I know of. It’s a good thing cloud homes aren’t very flammable. Do you want to know what he was trying to make that last time?”

“Sure.”

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”

My jaw dropped. “Just how…?”

“We’ve been trying to figure it out for years. We think it may have spontaneously combusted. There’s no other rational explanation.”

“Hi! I’m Snowcatcher. What brings you to Earth?” The unicorn interrupted our conversation.

Flitterheart opened her mouth to say something, and I blurted out the first thing that came to mind to shut her up. “Puberty.”

Snowcatcher blinked. “I have questions.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you were good at putting your hoof in your mouth, Sunny.”

Snowcatcher’s brain finally started working again. “I’m going to start with ‘what?’ ‘What?’ bears repeating, followed immediately by ‘what?’ and concluded with ‘what?’”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long bus ride.”

I nodded. “True, but I’ve seen you going up the aisle, talking with everypony. If I go into my backstory you won’t have time to finish talking to everypony on the bus. Your choice. I’m Sunny Rays, by the way, and this is my new friend, Flitterheart. Maybe… maybe you’re a new friend too?”

“I’d like to be. You’re right. I’ve got a task to accomplish and a set time to get it done. I guess I’ll cut to the chase: what are your plans now that you’re here?”

Flitterheart shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ll scrub toilets if I have to, as long as I’m out of Equestria. Hopefully my family can join me someday soon.”

I shrugged. “I was thinking of going on tour.”

“See the sights?”

“Something like that…” This mare doesn’t recognize me at all. I just dropped what should be a giant clue that I’m the Sunny Rays and she’s oblivious, just like Flitterheart. I smiled at her. It’s actually a breath of fresh air that nopony recognizes me. It’s just like Yakyakima.

“If you’re looking for a place to settle down for a bit, a few of the other mares on the bus and I are thinking of starting up an Equestrian-style hotel.” Snowcatcher smiled as she looked at Flitterheart. “You’d probably have to scrub a few toilets now and then, but at least it wouldn’t be all day, every day.”

“I think I’d like that. A place to roost and make a new start.”

She’s so naïve – she reminds me of myself, before years in the recording industry made me grow up. I’m not leaving her behind, and she never even gave me the chance to suggest she come on tour with me. If this is what she wants, this is what she’ll get. “If Flitterheart’s in, I guess I’m down for that too. At least for a little while ‘til the ol’ wanderlust kicks in. My Earth World Tour can wait a bit.”

“Awesome! I’ll need to crunch numbers at the consulate, but if I can find enough ponies to go in on this, we can make it work. If I can’t… I’ll think of something. I’m not going to leave anypony hanging.”

Snowcatcher continued on her quest of signing up more ponies for the hotel and I whispered into Flitterheart’s ear. “My advice is not to mention your sister at all, or you’ll find the problems you’re running from will follow you everywhere.”

She wanted to argue but didn’t. But she’d finally put two and two together. “Wait. When you said you were planning to go on tour…”

“Yes. I’m that Sunny Rays.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“What are you doing on Earth? You’re a huge star!”

“Even us huge stars have to check in at the consulate.”

She shoved me, playfully. “You had me going there for a moment. Though you do kinda look like her.”

“I’m serious. You don’t have to work at a hotel. Once I get my tour set up, you’re welcome to come with me. You can be a roadie. Unless you’ve got some musical talent you haven’t mentioned? I’m going to need a band. My old band all have their own projects these days, and none of them wanted to join me here on Earth.”

“But I gave my word to Snowcatcher, and a Care Mare never goes back on her word! No offense, but I don’t think I’d like the rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle.”

“Care Mare?” I didn’t bother correcting her about my lifestyle. As tame as I was for a musician, compared to her, I probably was pretty radical.

“Er, that’s what they call my family.” She blushed. “We used to do a lot of charity work. We stopped for a while after… you know. But we put ourselves back together by getting back into it. My family’s going to join me as soon as stallions are allowed across the portal. Brightheart would be on this bus with me if they’d have let him. Proudheart will probably finish college first, and Swiftheart’s in the Wonderbolt Academy. If she makes it in… I don’t know if she’ll come to Earth or not.” She frowned. “She promised me she’d come, but that’s her dream and it wouldn’t be right to take her away from it.”

“To quote a wise mare I know, ‘A Care Mare never goes back on her word.’ If she said she’d come, she’ll come.” I draped a wing around her and she leaned against me.

Working at a hotel wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it would give me time to make the contacts I needed to put my world tour together. If I can’t convince Flitterheart to come with me, the least I can do is keep an eye on her and make sure no one takes advantage of her. She’s innocent, idealistic, naïve, yet surprisingly bitter for somepony so young. She reminds me of myself, back when I was eight. Except for the bitterness… that came later.

Ponies further back in the bus started singing and I quickly joined in. Any remaining doubts Flitterheart may have had faded away as I hit my stride. Once ponies started improvising lines, I added one too, soloing.

“The brakes on the bus go squeal squeal squeal, squeal squeal squeal, squeal squeal squeal, all through the town.”

The bus driver came on the intercom and added one final line, “The radio on the bus plays Air Supply, Air Supply, Air Supply, all through the town.” And then he turned the radio up.

I know just how to whisper, and I know just how to cry, I know just where to find the answers, and I know just how to lie…

“Oh, they have a human equivalent of Mare Supply!” Flitterheart exclaimed, as she clopped her hooves together. She blushed. “Sorry, I got a little excited there. They’re my favorite band. Um, no offense.”

I neglected to tell her that one of my former bandmates was working with them now. I'd save that for a special occasion, such as having an opportunity to meet the band. But that would have to wait until we returned to Equestria, unless they decided to take a tour of Earth too.

Making love…

“Out of nothing at all!” We all sang together, answering the radio.

That’s odd. They have Air Supply; we have Mare Supply. It’s obviously the same song, but in English instead of Equestrian. Why, how, and is there a human equivalent for my songs? If there is… that might put a damper on my touring plans. The first thing I need to do is get some answers.