Page 12 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

Too tight.

I couldn’t breathe.

Geez! She was strong.

“Mommy?” Jenny released me from her clutches. “This is Hunter’s girlfriend.”

Flicking her fluster aside, Mrs. Collins wiped her hands on her apron, then shook my hand, firm and strong. “Nice to meet you. I’m Lillian.”

“Gemma. Not Hunter’s girlfriend.”

“You’re the musician, right? Hunter has mentioned you play at school.”

“Yeah. And he’s teaching me to sing. He’s got a great voice.”

“That may be so.” She half smiled at him. “But as long as all this music nonsense stays a hobby and doesn’t turn into some foolish dream, we’re happy for him to keep doing it.”

Hunter shrank two inches, but I straightened. Our dreams weren’t foolish. Music was all that mattered.

Mrs. Collins hugged Jenny and turned her toward the hall. Looking back at me over her shoulder, her voice turned all warm and buttery. “Would you like to stay for dinner, Gemma? I’ve made gnocchi. We’d love you to join us.”

“I’ve never had it before. But that would be nice, thank you. Beats going home and eating alone.” Anything sounded better than another microwave meal. And if whatever was cooking tasted half as good as it smelled, I couldn’t say no. My mouth was already salivating.

“Fabulous.” Mrs. Collins nodded. “Let me bath Jenny, then we’ll eat.”

“I can bath her, Mom?” Hunter stepped forward.

But Lillian shooed him off. “I’ve got it. You look after your friend.”

As Mrs. Collins steered Jenny toward the bathroom, Mr. Collins came in from the garage, carrying a six-pack of beer. Dressed in tradesman workpants, steel-capped boots, and a Rutgers jersey, he was big and as wide as a bear.

“Dad?” Hunter led me over to the kitchen. “This is my friend, Gemma. From school. Gem, my dad, Art.”

“You’re the music girl, right?” He pulled a beer out of the pack and put the others in the fridge.

“Um...yeah.”

“Nice to meet you.” He cracked open the top of the beer can and took a swig. “You like football?”

“Not really.”

“I heard Lillian ask you to join us for dinner.” He flicked his finger toward the TV. “You wanna watch the game until then?”

“No, we’re fine.” Hunter thumbed toward the hall. “I’m gonna give Gemma some of my music books in my room.”

“Fine.” Mr. Collins eyes narrowed. “But keep the door open.”

Why? Oh...did he think Hunter and I were together? I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh. Hunter and me? Not ever going to happen. I was convinced I’d missed being dealt teenage hormones. So far...anyway.

I followed Hunter down the hall, past the bathroom where Jenny was screaming and splashing.

“Argh. Argh. No,” she wailed. “I don’t want to wash my hair...There’s soap in my eyes. Mommy, it’s stinging.”

“Jenny, just stop.” Lillian’s voice was firm, yet calm. “I haven’t even put shampoo on your head. It can’t possibly be stinging. Now sit still.”

Hunter dragged me into his room and shut the door. “Just another great evening in the Collins’ house.”

“Still beats mine.” I stuffed my hands into the rear pockets of my shorts. “I’d be home alone.”

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