From the moment I landed in the foster care system, it felt like I’d been handed a lottery ticket to a game I’d never win.

  “It’s always hard for the kids from here,” he said, almost sounding sympathetic. “But we didn’t get any calls from the school, so that’s encouraging.”

  Thanks to Juliet. If she hadn’t vouched for me, I bet I’d be stuffing my Hefty bag and waiting on the front porch right about now.

  “Go on up and do your homework. Dinner prep starts at five-thirty.”

  “Thanks.”

  And that was the extent of my counseling for the day. Suited me fine. After years of dealing with sympathetic and unsympathetic counselors, therapists, social workers, teachers, and other appointed do-gooders, I was all talked out. Any feelings had long ago been stuffed down deep in my rotted soul in order to survive.

  I’d worked my way to “level two” in the house, which meant I didn’t need the constant supervision of the house monitors, and I intended to keep it that way. Leaving the door open every time I had to take a piss got tedious. And it was really hard to jerk off in the shower when you had someone asking what was taking so long every five seconds.

  “Hey, Pip,” I greeted my roommate and tossed my frayed backpack on the bed.

  Foster homes were required to give every child over the age of three their own room. In the few foster homes I’d been dropped off at, that usually meant an attic or basement room. Dark, cold—or hot—and far away from the rest of the family.

  Didn’t really help you feel welcomed.

  In group homes, I’d lived by myself, had a roommate, or been crammed with up to three other kids in a space the size of a broom closet.

  As long as no one touched me or tried to crawl into bed with me, I’d ceased caring who I shared space with a long time ago.

  Phillip Plant was a pipsqueak of a kid. I dubbed him Pip for short and he seemed pleased by the nickname. He’d only been in the system long enough to develop a healthy fear of everyone and everything. Little shit almost stabbed me with a pair of sewing scissors the first night, when the last-shift counselor showed me to my room without informing Pip he had a new bunkmate.

  Fun times.

  Small for his age, he made an easy target for the older, rougher kids in the house. Something I’d put an end to my second night here.

  “How’d it go?” he asked. “You’re back late.”

  My first two weeks here were spent taking exams, going to therapy and adjusting to the new house and its many rules. All valuable time spent in the eyes of the state. Not like I was already behind or anything.

  And teachers wondered why I struggled to live up to my “academic potential.”

  “Not bad.” Was I going to sit and gush about Juliet to my roommate? Hell fucking no. I didn’t talk about personal shit with anyone.

  “Evie said she saw you with a girl.”

  I blew out an irritated breath. A few girls were housed on the third floor here. Evie Potts was their ringleader and she’d made it clear she wanted to bag the new guy. Girl couldn’t take a not-fucking-happening hint for shit.

  “Evie needs to mind her own business.”

  Pip shrugged. “Hottest girl in the house wants to blow you. Cry me a river.”

  Dating, or even setting foot on the girls’ floor, was forbidden. Grounds for immediate removal to a much more secure facility. Even if I had been interested in what Evie was offering, I wasn’t going near her. I’d had enough of being yanked around. I planned to do whatever I could to make this the last stop on the foster care train. At least until graduation. If I ever fucking graduated. Some days I wasn’t so sure sticking it out was worth the effort.

  I threw myself on my bed and dug out my history book. At some point, I’d need to gain access to the sole house computer to turn my assignment in, but I’d ask one of the counselors on the next shift. They seemed less stressed. I steadily read through the assigned chapters and scribbled down some notes. There was a lot to catch up on and I briefly considered asking Juliet to “tutor” me.

  Normally, I could hyper-focus on my schoolwork for short chunks of time—the result of rarely having a quiet place to study—but this afternoon, I found my mind wandering to Juliet often.

  What was she doing?

  Was she wondering the same about me?

  Did her aunt and uncle treat her well?

  I moved from history to my English assignment and groaned when I considered the instructions.

  “Roman?” Pip’s quiet voice invaded my musings and I found him standing next to me holding out a bunch of worksheets.

  “What’s up?” I asked, setting aside my notebook.

  “Can you…?”

  Understanding his reluctance to ask anyone for help, I took mercy on him. “Math homework?”

  “Yeah. We got like three methods for solving this and I still don’t get it.”

  I jerked my chin toward his desk. “I’ll help, but I ain’t doing it for ya.”

  I pulled over another chair and sat next to him. For the next half hour we steadily worked through the problems until he felt confident he could work the rest out on his own.

  “Thank you, Roman. You explain it way better than Mr. Chin does.”

  Uncomfortable with the compliment, I shrugged. “Hopefully, I’m right. Hey, I found something for you.”

  I dug out the pink mechanical pencil I’d swiped from the secretary’s desk when I’d been in the principal’s office. Lady had like a hundred of ‘em, so I didn’t think she’d mind donating one to Pip. Kid had an affinity for all things pink—something that got him picked on exactly as much as you’d expect—and I figured a pencil was small enough to hide.

  His whole face lit up. “Oh, cool. The lead’s pink too!” He ran over to the desk and pulled a small sketch pad from the bottom drawer to try it out. I chuckled and went back to my homework.

  “Aw, ain’t you two sweet,” someone said outside our room.

  I jerked my head up and glared at the shaggy-haired brute of a kid darkening our doorway. “Get lost, Squire.”

  Sam Squire was the first kid to learn that the days of picking on Pip were over. Apparently, he already needed a refresher.

  “Get down to the kitchen, Squire!” someone else shouted. Sounded like a counselor. Squire slumped away and Pip relaxed.

  Five minutes. Just five minutes of peace and quiet was all I wanted.

  Chapter Eight

  Juliet

  After Roman left and my uncle went inside, I remained on the porch pretending to do my homework.

  Really I was just waiting for my aunt to get home.

  I learned as a little girl not to be alone in the house with my uncle if I could help it.

  The awkward feeling from Roman’s almost-kiss lingered. I wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to kiss me. But the sick feeling rolling in my stomach stopped me cold. I didn’t want our first kiss to be in a house that held so many bad memories.

  Thankfully, Aunt Susan arrived not much later, pulling me out of my obsessive thoughts.

  She and I got along okay. I didn’t necessarily trust her to keep me safe, but she’d kept a roof over my head and food in my belly after my mother died, so I owed her some loyalty.

  “Your niece has a boyfriend,” Uncle Jared said as soon as he saw his wife.

  I rolled my eyes and went to the refrigerator to take out ingredients for tonight’s dinner.

  “Who is he?” Aunt Susan asked.

  “A new kid. His locker’s next to mine.” I didn’t volunteer that we were actually sharing my locker. It was my secret and I didn’t want them butting in or trying to “fix” it with the school. “We have a few classes together.”

  “He looks like a troublemaker,” Uncle Jared said.

  I wanted to say, “No one asked you,” but I bit my tongue. It wouldn’t matter anyway.

  Together, Aunt Susan and I fixed a quick dinner of roast chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes. I thought about how I wished I were in a different situation where I could’ve asked Roman to stay for dinner. That I had normal parents who’d be interested in meeting my friends from school and allow them to hang out at my house.

  But that wasn’t my life.

  It was never my life.

  My life was being raised by a single mother who worked her ass off to give me what she could—which wasn’t much with her high school education and waitressing job. But I loved her and felt loved by her and that was enough.

  One night, my mother went out with her sister, Sharon, to celebrate her birthday, and never came home. A drunk driver hit them head-on. In an instant, my Aunt Susan lost both of her younger sisters and got stuck raising me. She and her husband never had children of their own, so I felt like the world’s worst consolation prize.

  Aunt Sharon’s daughter, Debbie, was old enough to fend for herself when our moms died. Cousin Debbie met her own tragic end a few years later. Something we never talked about in this house. Once in a while, her husband still checked in on me. I called him Uncle Dex and used to beg him to let me live with him when I was younger. I stopped asking a few years ago when I realized trying to guilt him into keeping me might drive him away.

  “Why so quiet, sweetie?” Aunt Susan asked, passing me the bowl of mashed potatoes. “Thinking about the boy?”

  As if I’d ever talk about a boy at the dinner table. “I have a lot of homework. That’s all.”

  “No boy’s gonna be interested in you if you make him feel stupid all the time,” Uncle Jared pointed out.

  I bit my tongue again. So many retorts raced into my mind.

  I’m not interested in a boy who’s intimidated by my good grades.

  Boys don’t factor into how I approach my schoolwork.

  And my personal favorite—Fuck right off, Uncle Jared. Secure men don’t fear smart women.

  Roman doesn’t. Not that we had a lot of time to talk, but I sensed his interest in what I had to say during English class. He didn’t mock me or call me nerd girl.

  No, I could picture Roman encouraging me. I wondered if he wanted to go to college and what he wanted to study. He was in the foster care system, so was college even a possibility for him?

  I don’t know why the thought distressed me so much. My academic future didn’t look all that bright.

  Ever since I’d visited my cousin Debbie in the hospital after she gave birth, I’d wanted to be a NICU nurse. But no matter how good my grades were, my aunt and uncle had made it clear they didn’t have money to send me to college, nor would they be taking out any student loans on my behalf. I’d have to pray for one hell of an all-inclusive scholarship if I wanted out of this dump.

  After dinner, I helped my aunt clean the kitchen and then quietly went upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me.

  Chapter Nine

  Roman

  While “level two” gave me some freedom in the house, I had to be on the van with all the other kids at seven a.m. sharp so I could be unloaded in front of the high school with the rest of the herd. I was allowed to walk home after school, but I couldn’t walk to school in the morning.

  None of that made sense to me. I mean, wasn’t I more likely to get in trouble lingering after school?

  Since I had no desire to lose my privileges, I kept my opinions to myself and had my ass in the van on time.

  Besides, maybe I’d get to see Juliet before school. She struck me as the type who might show up early.

  Cheap, powdery perfume choked my nostrils and I glared at the offender standing over me. “Let me have the window seat,” Evie said, pressing her breasts into my arm.

  “Get your own seat,” I growled, irritated she was putting me in a position where I might end up in trouble.

  I stared straight ahead, ignoring her until Greg, one of the counselors who rode with us, saw her and jumped up. “Find a seat, Evie. Now!”

  She huffed and bitched the whole way, finally throwing herself into a seat in the back. I nodded my thanks at Greg and resumed looking out the window.

  Pip ended up next to me, chattering away about an art project he had planned. High school students got dropped off first, so I ruffled his hair before squeezing past him and bounding down the steps.

  Being dropped off early wasn’t so bad. At least there weren’t a lot of people around to see me exit the navy blue van with Pine Bluff Group Home written along the side in big, bold, white letters.

  Evie and her friend Janet lingered behind me, and I ignored them. Most of the other kids went on ahead, but I was busy searching for a certain redhead.

  “You’re supposed to go inside to the cafeteria,” Evie informed me.

  I continued ignoring her as I entered the building.

  Thankfully, my lack of responses seemed to bore her and she gave up. I wandered to my locker so at least I’d have an excuse if I got caught not reporting to the cafeteria right away.

  There she was.

  Sitting on the floor in front of our locker with her knees pulled up to her chest, reading.

  “Morning,” I said.

  She startled then smiled when she looked up and saw me. “Hey, I was hoping I’d see you.”

  My heart stopped.

  Just fucking stopped. “Were you waiting for me?”

  She blushed and ducked her head. “Sort of.”

  I held out my hand and helped her up off the floor. “Well, I was looking for you, so we’re even.”

  She still couldn’t seem to meet my eyes. “I’m really sorry about yesterday,” she whispered.

  Yesterday was pretty fantastic, all things considered. Meeting her was the best day I’d had so far this entire year. Maybe in my whole life.

  Finding her courage, she straightened up and met my eyes. “At my house…when you…”

  Shit. So far gone over her, I forgot that she’d blocked my clumsy attempt to kiss her. Maybe she was waiting here to tell me to find my own locker and get lost.

  “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” It felt wrong to apologize, because I wasn’t sorry for wanting to kiss her, but I was sorry I’d made her uncomfortable. I didn’t want whatever this was to end before it even started.

  “Oh.” She looked down again. “Right.”

  Shit, we’re getting our wires crossed all over the place.

  I decided to lay it out. “Juliet.” I grabbed her hand, tugging her closer, forcing her to look at me. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward. I won’t try to kiss you again if you don’t want me to.” Her friendship meant more to me than a quick make-out session.

  She blinked. “It’s not you. It wasn’t you, I mean. It was…not there.”

  It took me a minute. Shit, her uncle came home about five seconds later. How dense was I?

  “You didn’t want to get caught?”

  Finally, a half-smile formed on her gorgeous lips. “Sort of. Yeah.”

  I stepped closer, backing her up against the lockers. Her breathing sped up, drawing my attention to the hint of cleavage bared by the V of her T-shirt. Her pale skin was flushed and dotted with little freckles. I had the sudden urge to dip my tongue into the hollow at the base of her neck and run it over her collarbones, tasting every inch of exposed, creamy skin.

  Not here.

  It was almost impossible to pull away. But if I got caught making out with a girl at school, they’d notify the home, and best-case scenario, I’d be stripped of all privileges. Worst case—I’d be moved to a different home and seeing Juliet again would be almost impossible.

  Already happened to me once before with a girl at another school. I was curious and she was willing. We got caught making out. Later that night, I was given fifteen minutes to pack my Hefty bag and shipped off someplace new.

  I wasn’t ready to disappear from Juliet’s life yet, so I backed away and ran my hand through my hair instead of kissing her senseless the way I wanted.

  “I’m supposed to be down in the cafeteria until first bell.” It was embarrassing to admit that to her, but I really wanted to stay out of trouble. Even when I was out of the house, it still felt like I was in prison.

  “Oh, okay.” She stared up at me. “Am I allowed too?”

  “Yeah, I don’t see why not.” Lots of kids other than the ones from the group home seemed to hang out there in the morning.

  I grabbed her bag again, but before I slung it over my shoulder, she stopped me. “How’s your arm today?”

  “I’m fine.”

  She gestured toward the locker. “Did you need to grab anything?”

  I grinned at her. “I found what I was looking for.” The tone of my voice left no doubt I was talking about her.

  Her cheeks flushed pink. “I’m glad.”

  No one looked up when we walked into the cafeteria together. I slid into a seat at a table in the back near the windows and Juliet sat across from me.

  I had an insane urge to pull her into my lap. I was convinced having her warm body weight pressing into me and wrapping my arms around her would keep every bad thing in my life at bay.

  To keep myself focused and out of trouble, I asked about our English assignment—writing a personal narrative—and she shyly handed over a couple of stapled-together pages.

  “What about yours?” she asked.

  I hesitated. With all the chaos at the home, I hadn’t delved too deep with my essay. It was too damn depressing to relive all my defining moments.

  Finally her pleading eyes convinced me to hand it over. Mine was scribbled in my blocky handwriting because I still hadn’t gotten access to the computer at the house.

  The defining moment in my life was the death of my mother. Before that my mother and I lived in an apartment not far from my two aunts. We didn’t have a lot, but life was good. I never doubted that I was safe and loved.

  Fearing what was coming next, I swallowed hard and continued.

  Everything changed one night when my mother went out with her younger sister to celebrate her birthday. Neither of them made it home.