Page 7 of Rocked: The Price of Dreams

“Um...fifteen, I think.” He flicked his shaggy hair off his brow. Counting on his fingers, he rolled off the list. “Drums, violin, mandolin, cello, piano, guitar—electric and acoustic—trumpet, saxophone, clarinet, French horn, flute, bongos, tambourine...but my jam is the bass.”

Holy crap! Was he a music protégé? “Out of all those instruments, why the bass?”

He plucked the strings of the acoustic in his hands. “I love the feel of the thick strings, the way it resonates through the amp and the thrum I get through my whole body when I play.”

“Really?” I wrinkled my nose.

“Yeah.” Seriousness darkened his eyes. “When you find the instrument you love, it claims you.”

“I’ve only ever played acoustic and piano. They both kick ass.”

Hunter plonked down on the chair beside Kyle. “Give me an electric guitar or a grand piano any day. I have to go to Kyle’s to play them. I can’t afford my own. But the moment I’ve saved enough pocket money or get a job, it’s the first thing I’m gonna buy.”

“So, what do you say?” Hope filled Kyle’s eyes. “My place? After school? We can practice every Monday and Thursday when Mom is out giving private lessons, and any day on the weekend that Dad is at work. We’ll be able to make as much noise as we like.”

“Um...I don’t know.” I rubbed my hand on my thigh. God, I wanted to play more and more. But did they really want to keep doing this? “You wanna keep playing with me, even though I’m a girl?”

“Hell, yeah.” Hunter play punched me in the arm. “You’ve got talent. We make a great team.”

This was totally surreal, but my love of music overruled any other logic. “I’d love too.”

“Awesome. You can meet my sister, Emily.” The excitement in Kyle’s voice drained away. He sucked in a deep breath, struggling with an anguish I’d never seen before. “She’s um...sick. But she’d love you.”

My heart cinched. It didn’t sound like Emily had a cold. “Oh.” I softened my tone. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with her?”

He stared at the whiteboard and dark clouds swallowed his eyes. “She has terminal leukemia.”

Oh crap.

“She was diagnosed when she was eight. Dad used to yell at her all the time to stop complaining about not feeling well—‘take an Advil and you’ll be fine,’ he’d say. Then one day she came home from school with a raging fever and swollen glands. Mom rushed her to the hospital. After running tests, that’s what they found.” Kyle’s shoulders sank as if his heart had collapsed. An undercurrent of pain meandered through his soft voice. “There’s no cure. Treatments don’t work. Nothing helps.”

I pulled my chair over beside Kyle and hooked my arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry. That must be hard.” Nausea pooled in my gut. How horrid, knowing his sister wouldn’t survive. I’d never known anyone who’d died before. Kinda freaked me out. “How...how long does she have?”

“Um...” Kyle sniffled and straightened. “They originally gave her two years. It’s now been three. She’s not well, getting worse every day.”

Shit.

“She’s an angel. So tough.” Hunter’s eyes misted. “Music always puts a smile on her face. She’d love having us play.”

Kyle’s eyes glinted as he jerked his chin at Hunter. “Hunt’s got a crush on Em, but won’t admit it.”

“I do not.” Hunter’s cheeks broke out in red blotches. Oh, he so had a thing for Emily. “She’s like my sister. I’ve known her forever.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Kyle’s throat. He was tougher than I’d imagined. He turned to me. His eyes pleaded with me, like he needed this as much as I did. Maybe more so if it helped him deal with Emily’s illness. “What do you say, Gem? We’ll have more time. We can jam and learn new songs.”

Warmth stirred in the depths of my belly. It radiated into my chest and flooded my heart. “I’d love to. Let’s do this.”

“Do you wanna come over this afternoon?”

It was Thursday. Mom worked late. Derek didn’t get home till six. “Sure.”

That afternoon after school, I rode my bicycle with the guys to Kyle’s house. Hunter pointed out he lived a couple of houses down from Kyle’s place on the opposite side of the tree-lined road. I couldn’t believe they lived two streets away from mine.

Kyle’s old two-story house with its beige shiplap and small windows was neat and tidy. Sitting in the center of a large open yard, it was much newer and more modern than the crappy cottage I lived in.

We dropped our bicycles by the front door and Kyle led us inside. The smell of cigarettes, musty carpet, and cheap air-freshener hit me.

“Em?” Kyle hollered. “You downstairs?”

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