“How did I get stuck pushing a shopping cart when I was supposed to be auditioning tonight?” Jazz asked.

Gray tossed a bag of corn chips in the cart and hipchecked her into a row of brownie mix. Giggling, she grabbed a package with peanut butter chips and added that to their purchases. “Because the guys need to eat. Fuel, ya know? Once we start practicing, we usually keep at it half the night. Especially if Stevie’s dad’s out drinking. Then no one bothers us.”

“But I can’t stay out half the night. Your mom will kill me.”

He grabbed a couple of bags of pretzels and added them to the growing pile. “So you should go home like a good girl and pull the covers up to your chin.”

It was her turn to hipcheck him. He laughed and slid his arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground so effortlessly that she couldn’t help but squeal. “Put me down, you oaf.”

“Oaf?” He set her down with a thud. “Not exactly the kind of sweet talk I expected from the girl who is on tap to be Krystal Sword’s first ever female drummer, thanks to me.” He shook his head in mock disappointment and held his hand over his heart, approximately two inches from the beard of one of the members of ZZ Top. He’d found the relic T-shirt at a thrift shop and wore it gleefully in spite of all the shit he took from their classmates. “I’m wounded, truly.”

She grinned and tried not to think of the reason spots were opening up in the band. Gray was heading away to college in not too long, as was another one of the guys who had a scholarship to a school back east. They wanted to get new people to fill in while the longtime members were off being scholarly. It was a fantastic opportunity for her to get some real band experience.

But all she could do was focus on the knee-weakening reality of Gray being gone. She couldn’t imagine playing when he wasn’t at her side. They were a team. He brought the best out of her, and now she was going to have to find her best all by herself.

“You don’t know I’m going to be the drummer. I haven’t auditioned yet. I could blow it.” She stopped and tore open the bag of corn chips, shoving a handful in her mouth. “I’m going to blow it.”

“Don’t be stupid. You’re gonna nail it.” He took the bag back and set it in the cart. “Look, go read a magazine or something. I’m gonna grab a six-pack and pay for this stuff.”

“Get me a—”

“A Sprite. Yeah, yeah. I know you, Edwards. Now go read about giving the perfect BJ in Cosmo or something.” His teasing grin as he shoved her away made her laugh.

Dang, get caught just one time reading a dirty article and a girl was branded for life.

“Fine. Push your own damn cart.” Still grinning, she wandered to the front of the Grab ‘n Go and rifled through the rack of magazines. Nothing caught her eye, at least not of the magazine variety.

She ventured to the line of toy vending machines and played with her bamboo initial necklace, a holdover from her old life. She’d been wanting something new to replace it. A sign of a fresh start. But cash wasn’t exactly plentiful, especially now that it was getting close to the beginning of the new school year. She’d need to buy supplies soon, and she needed to ration the money the Duffys gave her. She didn’t want them to think she was some kind of spendthrift.

And man, she wanted one of these stupid guitar pick necklaces. A dollar a chance with the giant claw. She sucked at this game, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

It’s just junk. You wear junk, baby girl, people will think you’re junk.

Forcing her mom’s voice out of her head, she dug around in her change purse and finally came up with her last four quarters. She was just about to slip them into the slot when a rickety grocery cart rolled up behind her and bumped her gently in the butt.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“It’s nothing.” She started to laugh it off and turn away, but Gray grabbed her arm.

“Liar. Looks like something to me. You want one of these?” He tapped on the machine and dug out his quarters, dumping them in the change slot before she had a chance to pretend she really didn’t want that purple guitar pick necklace.

It was cheesy. Flimsy. It’d probably turn her skin green and break in a week.

But she wanted it with all her heart.

“Yes.” Her voice came out in a whisper, as if she were confessing something shameful. The foster kid liked to drape herself in junk jewelry and pretend she wore diamonds.

“Then it shall be yours.” He shot her a cocky grin and braced his hand on the lever attached to the claw. A few deft manipulations later, he zeroed in on his target and dragged it out from the sea of plastic egg-enclosed treasures with a crow of victory that any sports hero would’ve recognized.

The sweet taste of success.

Still grinning, he plucked it out of the tray and popped open the top. He turned to her and held it out for her inspection. “There you go, baby. All yours.”

Every time he called her baby her heart rioted. Sometimes she didn’t think her skin and bones could hold it inside, not when his twinkling gray eyes settled on hers. She took the container and dug out her prize. She wouldn’t cry. If she kept on smiling, he would never be able to guess how a small hunk of crap could somehow crystallize the totality of her life and everything she wanted and would never have.

“Thank you.”

“Turn around. Let me put it on you. Hold up your hair.”

Pivoting, she did as he asked. He slipped it around her neck and she lifted her hair higher so he could fumble with the clasp. Then she turned back to him and gripped the tiny guitar pick between her fingers. “Thank you,” she said again, voice breaking.

His smile fell away. “Jazz? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She started to move away but he grabbed her arm and cupped her cheek in his other hand.

“Tell me.”

She shook her head but the momentum only made the words spill out faster. “I used to save my allowance for this stuff. I’d pile it up in my jewelry box because I didn’t have anything else and I wanted to be a princess.” She smiled. “Every little girl’s dream, right?”

“You are a princess.”

Her smile wavered. “It didn’t matter that I had holes in my shoes, because I had this fake bling.” She stared at the grimy floor to avoid meeting his gaze. “My mom found it one day and threw it all out. Called it trash. She said I was trash for wearing it.” She dug the other necklace out from under her shirt. “This is the only one I managed to save. The rest she covered in spaghetti sauce after she burned our dinner.”

He closed his fingers around hers. “It’s beautiful. J is the best letter.”

She turned her face away. “Thanks for not laughing at it.” Or me.

“Jazz.” He nudged her chin back with the tip of his finger and lowered his head to hers. “Someday I’m going to buy you that bling. I promise.”

A harsh laugh escaped her. She didn’t know where it came from and couldn’t figure out how to shove it back down. “Why would you do that?”

His Adam’s apple bobbled in his stubbled throat. “When I do it, you’ll know why.”