“Sounds fun,” I say, dying to peek at Garrett but keeping my eyes on Nash, a sweet smile plastered on my face.

A voice fills the car.

“The story begins, as many stories do, with a ghost. Peer into the fog. See her rising out of the mist.”

Outside, the sun sets beyond the wharf, and a girl appears, dancing on the sand, her tattered dress swirling around her, whipping at her legs in the breeze.

“Ring-around-the rosie, A pocket full of posies,”

The ghost is joined by two girls in similar dresses. They join hands, swinging in a circle as the voice chants, “Ashes, ashes…”

The lights from the wharf shimmer through their transparent skin, and, though I know the Bubble Car’s glass is augmented, goose bumps race up my arms all the same.

“It’s rumored her lover was being kept at Alcatraz for a crime he didn’t commit. She and her sisters were worshipers of the Rosy Cross. They were clairvoyants who could access the Akashic records—the experiences and desires of every earthly creature since time began. They had the power to control their etheric selves.

“Though she was a Compassionate One, who had advanced beyond the cycle of rebirth, it wasn’t enough to save her. It is common belief that she drowned trying to swim to him, her beloved. That is a lie. She was murdered. But to truly understand her death, to learn who had the power to extinguish a light so bright, we must experience her life.”

The lights on the wharf go dark, and the Bubble Car glides forward. It’s a short drive to the next stop.

“If I had a special power, I’d want it to be clairvoyance,” Nicki says.

“Not me. I’d want to read minds,” Eric says. “To hear what the person next to me is thinking. Not enough people speak their thoughts these days.”

I keep staring out the window, refusing to let him get to me.

Garrett remains silent, but when I sneak a glance at him, his eyes are flitting back and forth between me and Nash, like he’s trying to figure out our connection.

The last thing I want is for Garrett to know Nash and I have a past, to think I’ve been lying to him, for him to stop trusting me. Regretting trying to make Garrett jealous, I scoot away from Nash.

We arrive at the top of Lombard Street. The city lights sparkle below us, beyond the cobblestone street’s twists and turns.

“The night they met, there was an earthquake. Even the earth was moved by the power of their connection. But first, they danced.”