Prologue
Mountain View, California — 2002
THE BRIGHT LIGHTS WERE THEfirst thing that caught her eye. They glowed in a thousand colors, wrapping themselves around a strange word her five-year-old brain couldn’t quite puzzle out. It was an odd word, one that her teacher had not yet taught the kindergartners of San Mateo Elementary. She leaned forward in her booster seat, lips moving as she sounded it out.
“Arr…rooo…smmmithh…”
She recognized the “Smith” part—like Connor Smith, her brother’s best friend.
Maybe it was someone’s first and last name. Proud of her deduction, she grinned.
“Arro…smith,” she tried again, louder this time.
From the driver’s seat, her father chuckled. “It’s pronounced Aerosmith, Daisy.”
She looked up. “Who is he, Daddy?”
“Not a he, sweetheart. They’re a band, a very popular one.”
“So, they, like, sing songs and stuff?”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.”
Satisfied, Daisy pressed her forehead against the cool glass, taking in the scene outside. Crowds of people flowed toward a huge white tent, their voices bubbling over with excitement. Many wore black leather that shimmered in the lights. A group of girls with neon-bright hair caught Daisy’s attention, and she giggled, looking down at the sketchpad that seemed to accompany her everywhere. She couldn’t wait to draw them later.
Her father was just about to round the corner, away from the lights and the neon hair, when Daisy noticed one last, unforgettable thing. It wasn’t something she saw, but something she heard—a sound that poured out of the tent and spilled into the night. The melody was raw and electric, a heartbeat pulsing through the misty fall air, alive with something she couldn’t yet name. At that moment, Daisy fell in love for the first time.
That night, she discovered rock ’n’ roll.
Part I
Chapter One
San Mateo, California — 2011
ON THE MORNING SHE WASsupposed to care about first impressions, Daisy was still covered in yesterday’s paint when a knock sounded on her studio door.
Rolling her eyes, she called, “Come in.”
A mess of dark curls peeked in first. Daisy quickly turned down Pink Floyd and sighed. “Hi, Mom.”
“Good morning, honey.” Her mother stepped in, pausing to admire the canvas Daisy had been bent over all night. “Wow. Nani and Pop are going to love it.” She smiled, then knit her brows. “How long have you been at this?”
Daisy looked down, suddenly fascinated by the paint stains on her fingers. “A while.”
“How long, Daisy?”
She bit her lip. Honesty was her downfall.
“All night,” she whispered.
“All night?” Her mother’s voice sharpened. “Honey, we’ve talked about this. I let it go during summer, but today is your first day of high school. You need rest. I won’t have you performing poorly because of this… hobby.”
Daisy’s eyes narrowed. Hobby. Her father’s word. Never her mother’s.
Almost instantly, her mom backtracked. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” Daisy forced a smile. “I just wanted to finish before school. I promise I won’t stay up late during the year.”
