He tapped his long thick fingers on his desk as he leaned back in his chair. It squeaked beneath the burden of his weight. “I have no reason not to believe you, Eden.” There was a long pause as he stared down at the joint. “I’m not going to report this to the school police.”

The tears flowed faster. “Thank you, Principal Edwards.”

“However—” There were few words in the English language as heart-wrenching as however.

“I’m going to have to revoke your privilege of walking in the graduation ceremony, and you’ll have to skip grad night at Disneyland. Are your finals finished?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll call your parents. Someone can come pick you up.”

I returned to the bench in the hallway, dropped my backpack to the floor, and plopped down hard. Closing my eyes tightly did little to stop the flow of tears. Of course, I’d never had the money to buy a ticket to grad night, but I’d looked forward to the graduation ceremony. Now I just wanted out of this wretched school. Now I just wanted this awful morning to end.

Principal Edwards poked his shiny head out of his office. “Your dad is on his way.”

I wiped the tears from my face, leaned back against the wall, and shut my eyes again. Then the bench moved as someone sat down next to me. Mrs. Vickers was sitting next to me with her thick glasses and a look of contrition on her face.

She held a piece of paper in her hand. “Look, Eden, I’m terribly sorry about all of this.” I guess my earlier assessment of her not really caring one way or the other might have been hasty. “I think I have a job for you this summer if you’re interested. It pays well and includes room and board. I know your family struggles with finances.” Her face blushed as if she was the one who was dirt poor.

“What kind of job is it?” My throat was dry and achy from the shitty morning.

“My cousin is Nicky King.”

It took me a moment to figure out why this piece of information meant anything. “Do you mean Nicky King, the singer of Black Thunder?”

“The very one,” she said with a beaming grin. “Our fathers were brothers.”

“My dad loves that band, but what kind of job is it?”

“Nicky has a nineteen-year-old daughter who needs a companion.” She looked down at her lap for a second. “Finley has some problems with anxiety, and she doesn’t really leave the house.”

“Do you mean she’s agoraphobic?”

“Yes,” she hesitated, “among other things.” Her face brightened. “But she is a wonderful girl. She loves animals, and she has a great sense of humor. Nicky would like her to have a companion— at least for the summer. He’s going on tour with the band, and her brothers are always in and out of town.” She tucked the paper in my hand. “Think about it. This is my cell phone number. Call me if you decide to do it and I’ll make the arrangements.”

I tucked the paper into my jeans. “Thanks, Mrs. Vickers. I’ll think about it. Is it all right if I go clean out my locker? It looks like I’m not coming back to school again.”

Her eyes watered behind her thick lenses. “Of course, Eden. And I truly am sorry.”

I hugged her briefly and plucked up my backpack. The hall was still crowded, but people were starting to shuffle to first period. The glass doors at the end of the hallway swung open and my dad stepped inside. The top half of his long hair was pulled back and tied at behind his head and he was wearing a silver hoop in each ear. It seemed like every face in the crowd turned to look at him. He was definitely different than most dads, and I was glad.

He spotted me and the silent apology on his face made me break into a full run. I ran into his waiting arms and cried.

***

I spent the rest of the day flopped on the couch between my two little sisters watching mind-numbing preschool shows. Sophie had recently learned to braid hair and she’d just finished her tenth braid in my hair when Mom came out of the bedroom. Her eyes and nose were red from crying, and she had a giant wad of tissue clutched in her hand. She picked up Janie and pulled her into her lap as she plopped down next to me.

Her head leaned against my shoulder. “I have to be the worst mother in history,” she sniffled.

“No, you’re not, Mom. Hamster mothers eat their own babies. Besides, it’s no big deal. I’ll still have my diploma.”

“You’re such a good kid.” She grabbed hold of my arm and squeezed. “How did I deserve such a good kid?”

“You raised me, Mom. I think you can give yourself some credit.” I’d been the one to suffer a nightmarish morning but instead of Mom comforting me, I was comforting her. Growing up, it was something I’d found myself doing a lot. And while my college dreams had been temporarily smashed, I’d managed to overcome the disappointment quickly. I’d had a lifetime of practice.

She squeezed my arm harder and sniffled again. Janie twisted around in her lap and pressed her tiny finger against Mom’s red nose.

“Mommy is Rudolph.”

We burst out laughing and a tickle fight ensued. As usual, the Saxon family luck had gone sour. My college dreams had been temporarily washed away by the morning’s tsunami of shitty events, and I was going to miss out on my high school graduation. We had a yellow-stained apartment, bare cupboards, and a family car that was ready for the junkyard, but we had each other and that was all we needed.

Chapter 3

“Are you shitting me? Nicky King. Nicky fucking King,” Dad said for the thousandth time as he paced around our small front room.

Mom and I watched in total amusement as he walked into the bedroom and returned with his small CD player and a Black Thunder CD in his hand.

“Not too loud, Jack. The girls are sleeping.” Mom reached across the table and took hold of my hand. “But you’ll be living with strangers all summer.” While Dad was ready to ship me off tomorrow, Mom had not yet come to grips with the idea.

“Nicky King is not a stranger.” Dad pushed play and his favorite song fired up. He turned down the volume and joined us at the table. “He’s Nicky King, one of the greatest rock singers of all time.”

“Do you know him personally?” Mom asked.

Dad pressed his hand to his chest dramatically. “Yes, Woman, I do. Right here in my heart and soul.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have his name tattooed on your ass,” I said.

“How do you know I don’t? Have you ever seen my ass?”

“Yes, unfortunately there was the dropped towel incident four years ago that I still haven’t recuperated from.”

“Oh yeah, sorry about that.” He leaned back in the chair and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Nicky King,” he muttered again.

Mom looked at him disgustedly. “You don’t even say my name with that much admiration.”

Dad leaned forward, took hold of her chin, and kissed her. “Rebecca.” He pronounced her name with deliberate slowness.

“Please, Dad, we eat on this table. And I haven’t actually decided to do it yet. I mean, Mom’s right. I’d be in a strange house with people I don’t know.”

“Where exactly do they live?” Mom asked.

“Beverly Hills, of course,” Dad said. “I’ve driven by his estate. It’s outrageous.”

Mom and I looked at him with raised brows.

“What?” he said. “So I’ve driven by a few times. I was just curious.”

I sat forward with wide eyes. “Oh my God, you’ve been stalking Nicky King.”

“Driving by is not stalking.”

“Yes, Jack, it sort of is.”

“I remember the time when he settled down to marry . . . a few times. And I know he had kids.” Dad rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought. “I think there was a tragedy too. One of his kids died really young. Can’t remember the details.” Dad bounced back to the present. “So what do you think, Edie? Are you going to take the job?”

“I guess Beverly Hills isn’t too far. I could take the bus home on the weekends. I think I’ll call Mrs. Vickers tomorrow and find out a few more details.”