Page 6 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

My voice was nowhere near as strong as theirs, but I upped my effort. My fingers struck the chords in sync with Hunter. With my gaze glued to Kyle’s hands on the piano, the lyrics fell from my lips. I didn’t need the laptop after all. As we hit the last chorus, it hit me. We were singing in perfect harmony. Our voices melded beautifully and we were in tune. My heart thudded to a new rhythm, one that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. Electricity sparked in the air, sending my soul soaring around the room.

Magic.

That was why I loved music.

At the end of the song, Kyle spun around. Golden shards flickered in the depths of his dark eyes. The buzz jumping off him caught me off-guard. “Gemma, your voice is incredible. Have you never had lessons?”

“Nope. Never.”

“Your pitch is perfect.”

“Really?” I wrinkled my nose. “Thanks.”

His leg jiggled. “With a little training, you’d be exceptional.”

“Yeah...well.” I plucked at the strings, unable to meet his gaze. My gut hit the floor. There was no way Mom would ever pay for me to have lessons and I couldn’t bring myself to ask Derek. He struggled month to month in his commission-based insurance salesman job and never seemed to have any spare cash after contributing to bills. Now I was old enough, once I found a job maybe I could take some lessons. But until then, nope. “Like I said, I can’t afford it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Nervousness jumped in his voice. “What...what if I taught you?”

“What?” Had I heard him correctly?

“Do you love music?” Hunter lazed back in his chair, plucking softly on the guitar’s strings. “Do you want it to be your life?”

That was a no-brainer. “More than anything.”

“Then let’s make a deal.” Kyle leaned forward and rubbed his hands together. “You help keep Trev and his dickhead buddies away from us, and I’ll...or we’ll...teach you how to play and sing.”

My mouth hit the floor. I glanced from Kyle to Hunter and back again, struggling to form words. “Are...are you serious?”

“Yes.” A beaming grin inched across his lips. “We never joke about music.”

But doubt pummeled my head and heart. “Do you think I’m that good?”

“Not yet.” Kyle shrugged. “But you will be. I promise.”

There was nothing else in the world I wanted to do more than play music. Since I had no money, no prospects, I had to take whatever opportunity or help that came my way. My gut cartwheeled and my heart beat to an overzealous allegro tempo. I’d never believed in fate until now. I was meant to meet these guys.

“Deal. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

Chapter 3

The guys stuck to me like glue. Every time we walked the corridors or had a class together, they were always by my side. The bullies flung typical, gross, derogatory comments our way. “Fucktards,” “losers,” “muso geeks,” and “oh look, it’s the bitch and her ball-less babies” were the most common remarks, but at least the jocks weren’t physical. Maybe they were afraid I’d embarrass them again. Taking them on had been foolish. I was lucky my David and Goliath tactics had worked. I was a five-foot-four, petite fourteen-year-old going against brute, muscle-bound athletes. I wouldn’t stand a chance if they ganged up on me. But the few defensive techniques I’d unleashed on them had seemed to be enough to keep them at bay.

Respect...peeps.

After a month of me catching up with Kyle and Hunter in the music room during lunch break, we’d found our groove—thirty minutes on piano, then the remaining time on guitar and singing. We were so consumed when playing, we often missed the bell and got into trouble for being late to class. It was worth it. I was a sponge and wanted to learn and absorb everything they knew.

Kyle always watched me. Not in an I’m-into-her way, but more like he was intent on identifying my flaws or mistakes to refine my skills. He was more patient than I ever could be.

And Hunter? He goofed around, dancing and singing half the time. He was incredible on the keys, but he came alive with a mic in hand. So not the wallflower he’d been outside in the hallways. Same with Kyle.

After churning out “Don’t Speak” by No Doubt on guitar, Kyle turned toward me. “Have you ever played electric?”

“Me?” I jerked my chin back. “No. Where would I get my hands on one of them?”

“Um...” His leg jiggled. He lowered his chin, unable to meet my gaze. “What would you say to coming over to my place?...With Hunter...so we could practice. I could teach you the electric or bass or drums or anything.”

My pulse strummed a tempo faster. To get my hands on an electric? Wicked. I rested my arm on top of the guitar. “How many instruments can you play?”

---