Chapter One

To Lark: Lyrics from “Under Pressure” – Queen, David Bowie

“Just One Kiss” pulsed through Lark’s headphones as she hopped onto her bike and headed to work. A motorcycle would’ve been ideal, but her old-fashioned, rusty bicycle worked just as well. She preferred the term rustic.

Halfway out of the trailer park, she slammed on the brake pedal and plopped her feet to the cement to keep from tipping. Her mop of curly brown hair swung forward as she reached into her large jacket pocket to pull out her second-hand store Walkman. She pressed the stop button, bringing the band’s chanting to an end.

“Sorry, boys, this won’t do it for me today.”

“Brass in Pocket” drifted through her ears. The singer, Chrissie, knew just how to get Lark in a focused mood. And focused was what she needed today since she was going to impress a boy named Auden by wearing something outside of her baggy comfort zone. Besides that, today was her best friend Imani’s last day at work.

Maybe “Under Pressure” would’ve been a better song choice.

She pedaled her way through the scorching heat to the store—beads of perspiration gathered on her forehead and hands, more so from nervousness than the temperature. It might’ve only been the end of June, but in Texas, the sun’s rays liked to go ahead and start frying people a little early. Lucky for Lark, she didn’t get hot so easily.

Her bike wheels vibrated over the uneven parking lot as she pulled up to the gray-and-white painted strip mall. A large black sign with the name Bubble’s Oddities scrawled across, along with a picture of a skull and bubbles, loomed from in between the other stores. The owner, Jimbo, had originally named the store Oddities when he’d opened it a few years ago, but had thought adding the name Bubble’s to the title would draw more people in.

He was right.

Lark supposed people were attracted to the idea of happy, soapy spheres floating majestically through the air as opposed to having zilch—she sure was.

She pressed the brakes once she made it beneath the overhang. With a hard push on the rusty kickstand, she glanced up at her shop’s window, catching sight of the Help Wanted sign. The glass was black on the outside, yet clear on the inside. No one could peer in, but whenever she was inside the store, she could see all. A lot of people did interesting things when they thought no one was looking.

Lark stepped off the bike and slid her hands in the pockets of her heavy black jacket. The single piece of cloth was her security blanket, and she felt naked without the thing—whether the world was hot or not, she’d be seen wearing it.

Biting her lip, she avoided glancing at the music store for the time being because she wasn’t ready to face a certain boy just yet. Her heart pumped a little harder. “Calm down, you troublesome heart,” she whispered.