The next morning, the boys were up before the sun to prepare for the Rise and Shine interview. Because of the early start, Teddy had slept over on the spare bed in Max’s room. No matter how deeply Lark burrowed under the covers or grasped her pillow over her head, she couldn’t tune out their voices as they talked excitedly about making their television debut.
Then, the doorbell rang. Lark could hear Donna telling the makeup artist and hairstylist to set up in the kitchen.
From under her pillow, Lark groaned. A makeshift salon in the kitchen would mean no breakfast. Unless Fitzy decided to get really creative and give new meaning to the term “pancake makeup.”
She was just drifting back to sleep when her bedroom door opened and her mother came barreling in. “Lark, what are you doing?”
“Sleeping. Trying to, anyway.”
“You should be up and dressed already!”
“Why? School doesn’t start for hours.”
“Not for school. For the interview with Rise and Shine. So come on, darling … rise and shine!”
It was a moment before Lark’s groggy mind was able to fully process what her mother was saying. When she understood, she sat bolt upright. “Mom, I am not going to be part of this interview!”
“Of course you are,” said Donna breezily. “The segment is called ‘At Home with Abbey Road.’ Well, you’re part of being at home. So get dressed.”
Lark leaped out of bed. “I can’t believe you are springing this on me now!”
“I’m not springing anything on you. I assumed you knew. Why else would I buy you a brand-new outfit?”
Lark’s anger flared. “Oh, I don’t know … maybe to celebrate the A I got in English? Or maybe just because I’m your kid and I haven’t gotten any new clothes in ages?”
Donna knit her brows. “I wasn’t aware you expected to be rewarded for doing well in school.”
“I don’t, but—”
“And as far as being my kid is concerned, well, I should think that ‘my kid’ would understand the financial burden I’m under at the moment and know that buying expensive new clothes based only on the fact that we share DNA is not presently in our budget.” Donna shook her head sadly. “I’ve said it a million times, Lark—everything I do for Lotus Records, I do for you! Lotus is our family business, mine and yours. Someday, the good Lord willing, it will be yours and your children’s. But that’s not going to happen if I don’t continue to work my butt off to make Abbey Road a success. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think it’s so unreasonable to expect a little cooperation from you.”
Lark didn’t know what to say. Her eyes flickered to the window, where pale streaks of sunlight were just appearing beyond the palm trees.
“I know how much being in the spotlight frightens you,” Donna went on, “but here’s a news flash, honey: I’m scared, too. I’m scared of losing everything I’ve worked for, and of not being able to put a roof over your head. But when I have to choose between giving in to those fears and behaving like a responsible adult, responsibility is going to win every time.”
“I never said you weren’t responsible,” Lark offered lamely. “Fine, I’ll do the interview. But Mama, I just want to stay in the background. Please don’t let the TV people fuss over me.”
“That seems like a fair compromise,” said Donna, smiling as she glanced at the pink-and-white romper draped over Lark’s desk chair. “Seems a shame, though, that such a cute outfit and such a pretty and talented young lady aren’t going to get a little air time.”
“That’s the deal, Mama,” said Lark firmly. “Background or nothing.”
“Background it is,” Donna agreed. “I’ll tell Bridget to just pretend that you’re a very leggy lamp.”
“Good. This should be about the band, anyway.”
“I suppose that’s true,” said Donna. “Now hurry and get dressed. If you’re downstairs in ten minutes, there might be time for the hair and makeup girls to give you a little dolling up.”
“Mama …” Lark folded her arms and gave her mother a warning look.
“It was just a thought.” Donna headed for the door, then turned back and gave Lark a smile. “And for what it’s worth …,” she said softly, “it was real nice to hear you call me Mama again.”
Lark hurried downstairs in her new outfit to find the house overrun with producers, production assistants, and camera crew. Bridget Burlington-Carzinski was in the living room, where she had the boys lined up on the couch.
When Max joked, “We look like those ‘hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil’ monkeys,” Oliver immediately pressed his hands to his ears, Teddy covered his eyes, and Max clapped his hands over his mouth. This had Lark and the whole crew chuckling.
“Save it for when the cameras are rolling,” Bridget said, unamused. “We’ll ask you a series of questions,” she explained, flipping through a stack of blue index cards. “After that you can give us a tour of the house. Show us where you rehearse, where you hang out, where you sleep.”
“My room’s a bit of a shambles,” Max admitted sheepishly. “Didn’t have time to make my bed.”
“That’s perfect!” Bridget assured him. “The fans will love it. One glimpse of the rumpled bed linens that the world’s cutest drummer slept in will have teenage girls from coast to coast swooning into their breakfast cereal.”
Teddy frowned. “What about me? I don’t live here.”
“Hmmm …” Bridget checked her index cards. “In your case, we’ll just talk about how you became part of the band.” She blinked her false eyelashes and again consulted her notes. “How did you become part of the band?”
“Lark made it happen.”
“Lark? What’s a lark?”
Lark, who’d been lingering nervously in the doorway, stepped forward. “I’m a Lark,” she said. “Just pretend I’m a lamp.”
Bridget looked at Lark as if she were a bit touched in the head.
“I’m Donna’s daughter. I go to school with Teddy, and when the original keyboardist left, I suggested Teddy take his place.”
“That’s not in my cards,” said Bridget.
“But it’s how it happened,” said Teddy.
“Right,” said Max. “Lark saved the band. Without her there’d be no Abbey Road.”
One of the PAs called out, “Ten seconds.”
“Places,” the segment producer instructed.
The boys sat up straighter on the sofa. Lark couldn’t help feeling proud of them. Ollie in his blazer, Max in his plum-colored T-shirt, and Teddy in his pale-blue hoodie—they looked exactly like the superstars they were about to become.
Bridget waved Lark toward the arm of the sofa. “Perch there,” she commanded.
“Perch?” Lark echoed.
“Unless you’d rather stand on the end table,” Bridget said in a snippy tone. “Since you seem to be under the impression that you’re a piece of furniture.”
Obediently, Lark perched. But she made a mental note to inform Mimi that Bridget Burlington-Carzinski was a lot snarkier in person than she was on TV.
“Five seconds,” the PA alerted them. “Four … three … two …”
“Welcome to ‘At Home with Abbey Road’!” Bridget flashed a blinding smile at the camera. “These three young men are taking the music world by storm! They currently have the number-one single on the iTunes charts; their first album, British Invasion, will be released in February; and they’re about to embark on a multicity US tour. Not bad for three guys who aren’t old enough to drive yet!” She mugged to the camera, clearly pleased with her joke. “Boys, would you like to introduce yourselves to our audience?”
Ollie gave the camera his most disarming smile. “Hi, I’m Oliver Wesley, but you can call me Ollie. I like long walks on the beach, quiet evenings at home—”
“And giving cheeky answers to TV interviewers,” Max interrupted, chuckling as he threw a playful elbow to Ollie’s ribs.
“He’s right,” Ollie confessed, grinning. “I’ve never spent a quiet evening at home in my life.”
Bridget let out a trill of laughter and gestured to Max.
“I’m Max Davis, and I want to give a shout-out to my family back in London.” He waved at the camera lens. “Hi, Mum, Dad. Hey, Anna.”
Bridge pounced on this. “Anna?” she prompted, with a hungry look in her eyes. “Your girlfriend?”
Max laughed. “Little sister.”
“Ahhh.” Bridget nodded as if she’d just gotten Max to reveal a closely guarded secret. Then she pointed to Teddy.
“Hey. I’m Teddy, and I’m—”
Bridget cut him off, turning a knowing look to the camera. “Here’s something I just learned,” she gushed, “that I bet you fans out there don’t know. Teddy wouldn’t be a member of the band—in fact, there wouldn’t even be a band—if it weren’t for this lovely young lady right here.”
A nod from the producer sent the camera swinging away from Bridget’s smiling face …
… and focusing right on Lark!
The first thing that popped into Lark’s head was an image of her nine-year-old self at the Nashville Fourth of July parade, quivering with panic as she approached the bandstand to sing the national anthem.
“O-oh, say … can … you … seeeeee …”
In her mind’s eye she could picture the faces of her friends and neighbors, and she could hear the music being played by the high school marching band. She recalled the horrible sensation of her knees going weak and then …
Crash!
She felt herself falling, her forehead clonking against the heavy metal base of the standing mic.
“Lark?” Bridget Burlington-Carzinski’s voice sliced through the memory. “I asked if you could tell us how you single-handedly saved the band.”
“Um … well … you see …” Lark swallowed hard, her eyes boring into the camera lens as if she were staring into the jaws of a vicious mythical beast.
“T-Teddy plays the piano.”
Bridget’s smile tightened. “I think we’re all aware of that.”
“Right. Of course. Y’all know that.”
“Y’all?” Bridget leaped on the word like a tiger pouncing on a kill. “Is that a Southern drawl I detect?”
Lark nodded.
“So you’re not from LA originally?”
Lark shook her head.
“Well, then this has to be doubly thrilling for a little country girl like you,” Bridget prompted. “Living in Los Angeles and sharing your home with handsome British pop stars. It must be very exciting.”
Lark gulped down her terror. “It’s real exciting,” she managed to croak, even as the light reflecting off Bridget’s gleaming teeth threatened to blind her.
“Now, tell me, Lark …,” Bridget cooed, leaning forward as though to receive the juiciest secret in the universe. “Tell America … which one of these dreamy singing sensations do you have a crush on?”
The question hit Lark like a slap—a calculated, sneaky slap—and suddenly it was the Fourth of July all over again. She sensed her consciousness draining away; her body was getting incredibly light, as if it were filled with air instead of bones. Suddenly she felt Teddy’s hand, reaching up to take hers. Hidden behind the throw pillow that rested against the sofa arm on which Lark was perched, his fingers wrapped around her trembling ones, just tightly enough to pull her back from the brink.
“Speaking of crushes,” said Teddy, so smoothly that Bridget didn’t even realize her ambush had been interrupted, “we’ve started working on our next single. It’s a ballad called ‘Crush on Me, Crush on You,’ and we think it’s going to be a big hit.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lark saw Ollie and Max shooting puzzled looks at Teddy. This, she knew, was due to the fact that no such song existed.
“An exclusive!” said Bridget, delighted. “Will you sing a bit of it for us? I’d love to hear it.”
“I’d love to hear it, too,” Ollie murmured through a crooked grin.
Teddy took a deep breath and began to sing, “Girl, I’d never make you rush, but I’ve got a major crush. I heard a rumor … hope’s it true, do you crush on me like I crush on you?”
Max’s eyebrows rose. Ollie’s mouth dropped open. They both looked very, very impressed.
Lark felt the melody wrap around her heart, just like Teddy’s hand had wrapped around her fingers. The tune was sweet and simple with a surprisingly country feel.
“Sounds like a surefire hit to me,” said Bridget, aiming her smile at Ollie. “Now, let’s talk to lead singer Oliver Wesley.”
The lens that had been trained on Lark and Teddy shifted to zoom in for an extreme close-up of Ollie. Lark took advantage of the change in camera angle to slip quietly off the sofa and tiptoe out of the living room.
The minute her feet hit the floor of the foyer, she ran.
“Tell me the truth. Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“Of course not!”
“You’re just being nice,” Lark groaned. She was in her bedroom, frantically getting ready for school while FaceTiming Mimi. Unzipping the romper had been more of a challenge than she’d anticipated and now she was in danger of missing the bus.
“I’m not.” Mimi, who was at the breakfast table, was battling her brother Jake for the last of the Froot Loops. “I mean, I’m not gonna lie … for half a second there, you looked like you might pass out, but I doubt anyone noticed but me!”
“She’s right,” said Jake, poking his face into the frame. “Everybody else was too busy staring at those long legs of yours!”
“Ewwww! Shut up!” said Mimi, shoving him aside and losing the last of the cereal in the bargain. “You’re so not allowed to flirt with my best friend.”
Lark waited until Jake had left the Solises’ kitchen, laughing. “Do you think he has a point?” she asked. “Not about my legs, but about ‘everybody.’ Do you think a lot of kids from school were watching?”
Mimi shrugged. “Probably. It’s a popular show. Anyway, there’s nothing you can do about it now, right? So forget it. And think about this … right before you called, I checked the number of likes for ‘Everything’s Working Out.’ You’re up to eighty-eight thousand!”
“Am I supposed to think that’s good news or bad news?” Lark asked glumly.
“Good news! Duh!” Mimi said, giggling. “Gotta go. See you on the bus.”