Chapter 1. Bowie

Rebecca Mack rubbed her wet hair with a towel one last time. She gave the damp strands a flip, admiring her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The red streaks in her hair looked even better against her natural black than she expected. They were so her.

She grinned, satisfied, and turned up the radio, humming along to her favorite Avril Lavigne song. She began digging through her jewelry box, trying to find her favorite choker.

All Summer long, she'd been planning to reinvent herself, and it all led up to this day, her first day of eleventh grade. It was going to be her best school year yet. She could feel it.

She was jolted from her thoughts by her mother knocking on the looked bathroom door. "Rebecca, turn that garbage down. You're going to be late for school!"

She sighed, annoyed, and flipped the radio off. "It's Bex, mom!" she shouted. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Bex!"

"You don't have to yell, Rebecca," Celia Mack replied. "I'm standing right here, unless that ear trash you listen to is making you lose your hearing. And I will not call you by that ridiculous name."

"You never listen to me!" Bex shot back. "Everything always has to be your way!"

Suddenly, Celia's eyes widened and she screamed. "What have you done?"

Bex retreated a little, fingering the tips of her hair sheepishly, wondering if she'd made a mistake. "I-I dyed it."

Ham Mack came running to Bex's bathroom to see what was going on, since by the way his wife had shrieked, someone had surely been murdered. "What is all this shouting about?"

"I dyed my hair," Bex said softly. But no one heard her.

"Look what she's done to herself now!" Celia told her husband. "Her beautiful hair, ruined."

"Bex," Ham sighed, smoothing back his own graying hair; he liked to jokingly say he'd had a full head of blond hair... until Bex was born. "First the bellybutton ring, then the tattoos, and now this. What's next?"

Bex cringed internally, recalling her attempt at piercing her own bellybutton, and the infection that resulted. And the temporary tattoos she'd gotten at an outdoor concert, which she'd had an allergic reaction to. "Sorry, dad."

"It's just dye," Ham reasoned, turning to his wife. "I'm sure it's temporary." He looked back at his daughter. "It is temporary, right?"

"Semi-permanent," Bex mumbled.

"Bex," Ham groaned.

"She has no respect for herself, or us," Celia ranted, shaking her head. "She's out of control."

Ham put his hand on his wife's shoulder. "She's a teenager, Celia. She's just trying to figure out who she is." He gave Bex a pointed look. "Although she might have gone about it in a better way. Like writing poetry, or joining a school club." He gave his daughter a wink, betraying the stern look he was trying to maintain.

"Where did we go wrong with her?" Celia asked. "She used to be such a good little girl. Remember how sweet she was?"

"She's still the same girl," Ham told his wife. "In a few years, the two of you will be best friends."

"Yeah, doubt it," Bex said, rolling her dark eyes. She rushed past her parents, grabbing her book bag.

"Young lady, get back here and apologize to your mother!" Ham called.

"Sorry, I'm gonna be late for school," she said, heading for the door.

"Bex!" her father shouted. "You forgot your camera!"

She turned back and grabbed her camera bag from her desk. "Thanks, dad."

Bex's best school year yet was not off to an auspicious start. She was tense as she walked toward Jefferson High, replaying her fight with her parents in her head. Was she really as terrible as her mother said?

For years, she'd striven to be the perfect, studious, dutiful Asian daughter, like her goody-goody older cousin Ling. She'd practiced her piccolo for an hour a day, went to Chinese lessons on Saturdays, and worked her butt off to bring home A.'s.

But about a year ago, she realized she wasn't living her life for herself, she was living it for her mother, by trying to be someone she wasn't. Who she was, was a mediocre student, who liked punk rock, bad boys, and photography, and desperately wanted a motorcycle. So she'd decided to embrace herself instead of fighting it. In theory, she should never have been happier. And she would be happy, if it weren't for the tension between herself and her parents that her new look and attitude had created.

She reached Jefferson, her mood getting worse. Bex hated school; she hated the way it smelled, the homework, gym class. She would go crazy if it weren't for the boys there. She'd always been the kind of girl who was popular with the boys, but not so much with other girls. As a result, she had an undeserved reputation for being promiscuous. Which was painfully ironic, since she'd never even had a boyfriend. And because of her reputation, she didn't have a ton of close friends.

Emily Miller was her best friend. They'd known each other since kindergarten. Emily wasn't the kind of girl who would stab you in the back, like most of the other girls Bex knew. She waved as she saw her friend hurrying across the courtyard to meet her.

"Bex, you look so cute!" Emily cried.

"Thanks," Bex said. She was wearing a red tank top, with a fringed black tank layered over it, and black jeans. "So do you!" She reached out to hug her friend. "Do you like my hair? Is it too much?"

"Are you kidding? It looks amazing," Emily told her.

Just then, the first bell rang, and Bex and Emily hurried to homeroom.

Bex's mind wandered as she sat in class, listening to her homeroom teacher go over school rules. School was just like home- an endless list of things she couldn't wear, say, or do. She tuned it out, doodling on her notebook.

She barely noticed when the classroom door opened, and a boy walked in.

"You're late, young man," the teacher said.

"Sorry," the boy replied. "New here. I'm still trying not to get lost."

"That's fine. Take a seat."

The boy breezed past Bex and Emily, and sat down somewhere behind them. Seconds later, Bex felt Emily's shoe tap hers. She glanced down and stepped on the note her friend had passed, then pretended to scratch her ankle and picked it up. Slowly, she unfolded it under her desk.

Who is that? Emily had written.

Bex glanced back to sneak a peek at the boy. Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a small wave. His lips turned up as if he were laughing about something private. Blushing, she turned around and scribbled back, No idea, but he's hot.

She dropped the note and kicked it back to Emily.

The only highlight of the school day was photography class. Incidentally, it was the last period of the day. Bex plodded through her boring classes until seventh period finally arrived, then rushed to the photography room, toting her beloved camera, and sat down in her seat before the bell rang.

The photography teacher, Ms. Fisher, introduced herself. She was young and dressed cool. Bex liked her right away; she seemed like the kind of person she wanted to be when she was older, and she didn't talk to her students like they were idiots. Bex had noticed a motorcycle parked in the teachers' parking lot that morning, and she secretly hoped it was hers.

After Ms. Fisher passed out the course syllabuses, she began assigning cameras to the class. "Rebecca Mack?" she asked, when she came to Bex's table.

"Oh. I have my own camera," Bex told her, holding it up to show her.

Ms. Fisher examined it. "It's a nice one! You're a lucky girl, Rebecca."

"Thanks. But could you please call me Bex?"

"Of course, Bex," Ms. Fisher nodded, with a smile. She made a note on the class roster.

Bex zoned out while the teacher guided the class through camera care and operation. She knew it all already; she even had her own little darkroom in the basement at home. But she paid close attention to her first assignment.

"I want you to take a photo of something you find beautiful," Ms. Fisher said. "It can be anything, as long as it's unique and tells a story. I want to see out of the box thinking. Your photos must be developed by Friday." The first bell rang. "Now get out of here," she winked.

Bex smiled. Out of the box thinking was the one thing she was good at. Her whole life, she'd never really felt like she belonged in any box. She left class with a spring in her step, her chunky soled shoes squeaking on the ugly tile floor.

Stepping out of school and into the courtyard, she was already looking for inspiration for her photography project. She looked through the lens of her camera, turning in a circle, trying to find something worth capturing on film.

"Duck!"

She reacted, but not soon enough. A football came flying toward her, striking her in the back of the head. As she stumbled forward, she hit the shutter of her camera, and it went off.

"Watch it!" she shouted at the football player who'd thrown the ball, as he sprinted past her. She clutched her camera protectively to her chest.

"Are you okay?"

Bex looked up to see the hottie from homeroom, sitting on the school stoop, with a guitar on his lap. She hadn't had a good look at him earlier, but now she couldn't help but stare. He had curly brown hair, and shiny green eyes. Or were they brown? Or... blue? She couldn't tell. But he was even cuter than she remembered.

Especially when he smiled, revealing straight teeth and deep dimples in his cheeks.

She touched the back of her head, her pulse speeding up.

"Are you okay?" he repeated. "Should I get the nurse?"

"Um, no. I'm fine," she stammered. "Thanks."

"I hope you at least got my good side," he said, smiling an adorably crooked smile.

Like he had a bad side, she thought. "Oh yeah. I guess I did get your picture." She shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry about that."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. That's a cool camera." He nodded his perfect chin toward her.

"My dad gave it to me for Christmas," she told him, not that he'd even asked. "Nice guitar."

"Thanks." He flashed his winning smile again. "What's your name?"

"Bex," she answered. ""Bex Mack."

"Bex?" he repeated. "What kind of name is that?"

She twisted a strand of artificially red hair around her finger. "It's just a nickname. My real name is Rebecca. But it's not really... me, you know?"

"Bex is a weird name," he winked. "But it is kind of cool." He hopped off the stoop to stand in front of her. "I'm Bowie Quinn."

"And you think my name is weird?" she teased.

He laughed, shrugging. "My mom is a David Bowie fan. What can I say?"

"It's a cool name," she admitted. She watched his eyes twinkle amber, then teal. They were the most mesmerizing eyes she'd ever seen. Suddenly, she had to know what color they really were. She took a step toward him, looking closely at his face.

"What?" he asked, touching his nose. "Do I have a bat in the cave?"

She blushed, mortified. "I- no. I just wanted to see what color your eyes are. They're hazel," she added. Duh!

"I know," he said, suppressing a laugh.

"Of course you do." Her cheeks burned. "I feel like such a dork right now."

"You are a dork. But a cute dork."

Was it possible to blush any more? "You think I'm cute?"

He nodded. "You look like that chick from that Disney movie. The one with the little red dragon guy?"

"Mulan?"

"Yeah," he smiled. "That's her name."

Bex smiled shyly. How could he possibly know that Mulan had been her favorite movie as a kid (and maybe still was)? It had to be a sign. "Well, I don't have a dragon," she told him. "But I am half-Chinese."

"Cool." He nodded his approval. "Do you speak Chinese?"

"Not really," she admitted. It was embarrassing how little she'd retained in Chinese School. "Some. Mostly just the swear words."

Bowie chuckled. "What else would you need to know?"

"Right," she giggled, relieved to finally have gotten past the awkwardness of their conversation. "So what kind of music do you play?" She gestured to his guitar.

"Rock," he told her. "And a few ballads. I'm in a band with some buds. You should see us play sometime."

"That would be sweet," she agreed. She was doing cartwheels on the inside. He was a rocker! A cute rocker!

"Well, I've gotta go," she said reluctantly. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"Nice meeting you too," said Bowie. "Maybe we can have lunch together tomorrow?"

"Awesome." She started to walk away.

"Hey, Bex?"

She turned back. "Yeah?"

"Make sure you let me know how that picture turns out."

She smiled. "Will do."

Bowie

Bowie

Bowie

Bowie Quinn

Rebecca Quinn

Bex Quinn

Bex Mack-Quinn

Mrs. Bowie Quinn

Bex + Bowie

Bex stared into space, doodling mindlessly. She'd had a lot of crushes over the years, but she was never the kind of girl to fall in love with a cute guy in five minutes, or giggle like an idiot around him, or write his name on her notebooks.

But her Spanish homework told another story. It was literally an ode to Bowie. Their names were written in every way she could think of, from cursive to fat bubble letters.

She dropped her purple, feather-topped gel pen when there was a knock on her bedroom door. "I'm doing my homework!"

"It's dad, honey," her father called. "I just want to talk to you for a minute."

"Come in," she sighed, annoyed at being torn away from her fantasies about Bowie.

Her dad came into the room and pulled a chair up to her desk. He often came to chat with her after he got home from work. She secretly loved their talks, and looked forward to them, although it wouldn't be cool to admit it.

"How's my favorite girl?" he winked. "Did you have a good first day?"

She smiled. "Other than an incident with a football, it was okay."

"That's great." He patted her on the shoulder. His eyes fell on her desk. "Homework on the first day? That stinks." He frowned, squinting. "I'm not familiar with that particular Spanish verb, though. Bowie?"

Bex's eyes widened. She shoved her homework into her folder like it was a live grenade.

Her dad's blue eyes twinkled with humor. "So, who's this Bowie?"

"Just some guy from school, dad," she groaned. "No one."

"Well, he must be someone special to have a whole homework assignment devoted to him."

"Dad."

"I won't pry," Ham promised. "But you remember the rule, right? No dating."

"I know." Her heart sunk. She'd forgotten. In her mind, she and Bowie were already married and honeymooning on Martha's Vineyard.

"And Bex," he said. "I still want you to apologize to your mother for this morning. She was very upset."

"I will," she sighed.

"You know that it was wrong to dye your hair without permission, right?"

"I guess," she shrugged.

"Why do you want to change yourself all the time?" Ham asked her, his light tone gone. "You're beautiful exactly the way you are, honey. You don't need to change a thing."

Bex's heart squeezed. "Thanks, dad." she touched the tips of her hair. "But... I really like the red. I want to keep it."

"Well," he reasoned. "What's done is done. I guess it won't hurt anything to let it wash out on it's own. But no more stunts like this."

"Okay."

He stood up and kissed the top of her head. "I'll let you get back to your work." He left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Bex looked down at her books, but she knew there was no way she could concentrate.

She went to her bed and flopped face-down. She wanted to cry. Her mom had a lot of rules, but her firmest and most unfair rule was that Bex wasn't to have a boyfriend until she was eighteen. She just met the boy of her dreams, and she couldn't even date him for two years.

But then, it hit her.

She was sixteen. Practically an adult. Her mom didn't need to know everything she did, did she? Maybe she could date Bowie... without her parents knowing?