Out of Tune

by Gail Nall

  Mom doesn’t say anything when I reach the door. She points toward the back of the RV.

  “What . . . ,” I start to say, but Mom just keeps pointing.

  I walk through the rooms and step up into my cubbyholes. My toe catches on something, and before I know it, I’m sprawled out on my stomach over a mess of stuff. Hugo blinks at me from where he’s curled up on a pile of shoes in one of the closets.

  Books, blankets, stuffed cats, shoes, clothes. Practically everything that was loose is lying in a heap on the floor. I push some books out of the way and stand up, surrounded by my life.

  “This isn’t how I left it. It must have fallen off when Dad braked really hard for that buffalo.”

  Mom takes a couple of steps backward into the kitchen. She opens one of the cupboards, then hands me a box of trash bags. “I think it’s time to do something about it.”

  I stare in horror at the box of Hefty in my hands. I drop them like they’re full of Hugo’s used litter. “I’ll clean it up. Right now.” I scoop up an armload of stuffed cats and blankets, and toss them onto the extra bunk.

  Mom gives me a sad smile. “We’re going to have to donate some of this. Shiver’s riding with us now, and there’s no reason for her to sleep on the couch when we have a perfectly good bed. I’ll help you, and we’ll store the bags in the truck until we get to a town.”

  Tears prick my eyes. “You’re not being fair. This is my life. Mine, not yours!”

  Mom tries to hug me, but I push her away. She grips the doorframe as if she needs it to hold her up. “I know how hard this is, but try to think of it like this. It’s just things, Maya,” she says. “It’s not your life.”

  “Not my life?” I echo. Every single thing here is a memory, a reminder of something good and happy. Something that existed before my parents messed it all up.

  “Honey, we have to share this space, and it’s not very big. I wish I could let you keep everything. I tried to for as long as possible, but now we need this bed for someone to sleep in.”

  “For Shiver. She’s not even part of our family.” The second the words are out of my mouth, I feel bad for saying them.

  “Compassion, Maya, please.” Mom closes her eyes and puts her hand to her forehead. When she opens them, she says, “Let me help you. It won’t take long if we work on it together.”

  “I don’t need your help.” I put as much ice into my voice as possible. It’s hard to be entirely mad at Shiver—it’s not her fault that Gert got sick and her mom won’t come get her. But Mom? I can definitely be mad at her. I glare at her until she says, “I’ll be right back here if you change your mind.” Mom steps through my stuff to get to the bathroom.

  I want to hurl the box of trash bags against the wall, but that would only bring her in here again. Why can’t she realize she’s pulling out pieces of my heart?

  What I do know is that I need to get out of here, like, yesterday. I whip out my phone.

  Mom making me get rid of my stuff!!!! The text doesn’t go through. The faint wi-fi from the lodge is pretty much nonexistent right now.

  Mom comes out of the bathroom, and I shove my phone back into my pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want help?”

  “No!” Like I’d ever let Mom help me decide what to throw away.

  She bites her lip, and for a moment, I think she’s going to cry. I don’t know what she has to cry about. I’m the one who’s losing everything. “All right. I’m headed to bed,” she says. Then she disappears into the back of the RV.

  I plop down on the floor and take a deep breath. Mom said we’d store the bags in the truck until we found a Goodwill or something. That buys me some time, since I really doubt there are any thrift shops in the middle of Yellowstone. Once I’m back in Nashville, my parents can ship my things home. I can keep them in Kenzie’s basement.

  I feel a little better, but it doesn’t stop me from thinking about every little thing as I put it into a bag. The horse book series I was obsessed with in fourth grade. The program from the fifth-grade musical I starred in. Ticket stubs from my favorite concerts. And the blankets Dad bought when an ice storm came through and knocked out our power at home for a week. We all had to huddle together on the couch to stay warm, and Mom told ghost stories to take our minds off how freezing it was, until we gave up and checked into a hotel.

  How can Mom expect me to give up these memories?

  I put it all into the garbage bags and vow not to let any of it go.

  T minus 9 days. Or eight days, really, as I watch the time on my phone change to 12:00. I yank out my earbuds and listen. It’s completely silent inside Bertha. Well, silent except for Dad’s snores.

  Time for drastic measures, as Kenzie would say. Right after I got into bed tonight, I updated OMGH with my best plan yet. And now it’s time to put it into action.

  I heft Hugo off my stomach and resettle him in a nest of blankets. Then I slide the little curtain away from my bunk. Shiver’s curtain is closed. Very, very, very carefully, I climb down my ladder. The ladder squeaks and I stop, frozen halfway between the bed and the floor.

  When my heart finally slows down, I finish the climb and step silently onto the floor. I’m like a jewel thief from some Mission Impossible–type movie, moving without a sound toward the living area. Well, one that wears an oversized T-shirt from Carrie Underwood’s Blown Away tour (put on in the safety of my cubbyhole so Shiver couldn’t see it). Now to find Mom’s purse.

  Please, please, please don’t let it be in the bedroom. I really don’t think I could tiptoe in there and lift her wallet while she and Dad are sleeping.

  My heart is up in my throat when I spot the lemon-yellow handles peeking over the armrest of the Used-to-Be-Dirt Den Couch. Sitting next to the purse, I rummage through until I find Mom’s matching yellow wallet. Inside, four shiny credit cards look back at me. Four! Which one should I pick? Maybe I should use the one with the fuel company logo on it, and earn Mom and Dad some free gallons of gas with my sneaky purchase.

  I half expect Shiver to come flying out of her bunk and rip the card out of my hand. But she doesn’t. Bertha and everyone inside are completely silent.

  I rifle through Mom’s purse until I find a pen and a notepad. Then I squint at the card. It’s really hard to read credit card numbers in the dark. After tilting it this way and that, I jot down the numbers and the expiration date.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on the couch cushions and put everything back as I found it. I clutch the scrap of paper in my hand as I tiptoe through the freezing RV to my cubbyhole.

  Once I’m tucked under the warm blankets and Hugo’s snuggled on my legs, I peer at it with the light from my phone. One time at school, Lacey bragged about “borrowing” her dad’s credit card to buy a pair of jeans online. It sounded so wrong to me—like stealing. Except here I am, doing the same thing. I don’t feel any better about it now . . . but this isn’t like a pair of jeans. It’s my whole life. It’s the only dream I’ve ever had. I wouldn’t be doing this for something as silly as a pair of jeans. I would never do something like this if it wasn’t super important.

  Somehow that still doesn’t make me feel all that great. But I slide the piece of paper between the back of my phone and its hard plastic case anyway.

  Phase One of the newest plan of OMGH is complete.

  I shove down the guilt feelings as I send texts that won’t actually send to Kenzie and Jack, telling them I’ll be home soon. Then I fold my audition shirt and put it right where I can see it, plug in my earbuds, and fall asleep to “Highway Don’t Care.”

  Chapter 12

  8 days until Dueling Duets auditions

  The morning air is cold and full of pine and this horrible rotten egg smell that Dad calls sulfur. I hug my arms to my chest and wish I’d put on a thicker sweatshirt as I peer into the hot spring.

  According to Bug, hot springs are just really pretty geysers that are also hotter than boiling water. She’s definitely right about the really pretty part. The hot
spring is the most perfect blue I’ve ever seen. Even Shiver looks interested. Which makes sense since it almost matches her hair. I pull out my phone with freezing fingers and snap a picture to send to Kenzie. I’ll send it when I get close enough to the Old Faithful Inn to pick up the wi-fi again. I check for the hundredth time that the slip of paper with Mom’s credit card number is still tucked in behind the phone.

  I can’t believe I’m sightseeing with Shiver. But she was the only other one who thought the ranger program on insects in Yellowstone sounded boring and kind of icky. So we’re looking at the geysers while Mom, Dad, and Bug are at the program.

  Also, I kind of don’t want to be around Mom since she’s still bent on making me give everything away. I need to get Phase Two of my newest OMGH plan into action tonight, before we leave the park and end up back in thrift-shop-ridden civilization.

  I lean farther over the fence to get a better picture. I really want to capture the puffy light-blue cloud-looking things floating in the turquoise water.

  “Don’t drop that. You’ll ruin the spring,” a guy’s voice says from behind me.

  It’s so unexpected that I do almost drop my phone. Shiver and I flip around to face a tall, skinny guy with curly brown hair who looks about our age, wearing jeans and a Yosemite National Park T-shirt.

  “Who are you?” Shiver whirls her earbuds around like a lasso as she studies the boy.

  “Remy.”

  “And what makes you the boss of the world, Remy?” she asks.

  I cover my mouth so I don’t laugh. Shiver can be really funny—sometimes.

  He holds up his hands. “I’m just sick of tourists doing stupid stuff. That’s all.”

  “Ha. That’s hilarious, coming from another tourist.” I turn and start walking toward the next geyser on the concrete trail. Shiver falls in next to me. It’s weird—almost like we’re friends.

  “I’m not a tourist,” Mr. Remy Bossypants says from behind us. “My parents are park rangers in Grand Teton.”

  “Then go order people around there,” Shiver says over her shoulder.

  Remy runs in front of us and turns around so he’s walking backward in order to face us. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Have you guys seen Old Faithful go off yet?”

  Shiver raises her eyebrows, like she can’t believe he’s still existing in her space, much less talking to her.

  I decide to give him a second chance. He is awfully cute, after all. And it’d be nice to tell Kenzie about something good from this whole trip. “Not yet. I think it’s due around eleven, right?”

  A smile lights up Remy’s face. “Yup. You’ll love it.”

  I’m wondering how I can snap a picture of him to text to Kenzie without weirding him out, when he stops suddenly in front of us.

  Shiver nearly runs into him. “What’s your problem?”

  His tan face shades red. “Sorry, I just thought of something. I know the best place to see Old Faithful, but it’s a little hike. Want to go?”

  “In your dreams,” Shiver says at the same time I say, “Sure.”

  Shiver glares at me, and just like that, whatever friendly moment we just had is gone.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun,” I say to her.

  She frowns. I probably should’ve said it’d be full of black, depressing moments. Then maybe she’d be more into it. She grabs my arm and pulls me away from Remy. “You can’t go off by yourself with some guy you just met. Seriously, have you got some kind of death wish?” she says in a loud whisper.

  Anger prickles through me. She’s talking to me like I’m some dumb kid. “Remy hardly looks like a murderer. He’s the same age as us,” I hiss at her. “And look at all the people. This isn’t exactly an ideal kidnapping situation.”

  Shiver shakes her head. “I’m going too, then. If he tries anything, spray him with that and we’ll run like nobody’s business.” She flicks a finger against the can of bear spray dangling from my backpack. Mom bought a can for each of us back in Cody and makes us carry it everywhere.

  I glance at Remy. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets and is kicking a pebble across the paved walkway. I’d rather hike without Shiver hanging over us like a dark rain cloud. But I know Mom would never let me hear the end of it if we separated. The only way she agreed to let us check out the geysers on our own was if we promised to stick together.

  “So where is this place?” I ask Remy.

  He points at the hill rising behind Old Faithful. “Up there. It’s the best. Just a handful of people, so you don’t have to fight for a good spot, and you can see the whole area.”

  He leads us down the walkway and past the benches that ring the front half of Old Faithful. It’s a gorgeous day with a soft blue sky, and it’s actually getting warmer. I pull my sweatshirt off and tie it around my waist.

  “You should’ve been here last year,” Remy says as he watches me tie my sleeves. “There was still four feet of snow on the other side of the park. Dad and I pitched a tent at the Canyon campground, and one night it snowed another couple of inches. When I unzipped the tent in the morning, snow blew in all over our sleeping bags.”

  “You slept in a tent in the snow?” Shiver asks. “That’s dumb.”

  I glare at her and say to Remy, “That sounds awful. Why didn’t you check into a hotel?”

  “It was an adventure,” he says as we cross a bridge over a rushing blue river and start up a path into the woods that cover the hill.

  We pass a few people as we make our way up the trail—Remy, me, and then Shiver, lagging behind, earbuds in.

  “Wait.” Remy stops in the middle of the path.

  He holds a finger to his lips and then points to a rock. On top is a furry brown lump of a thing, fast asleep. It looks like a beaver without the paddle-shaped tail, all round and cute like it’s straight out of one of those Japanese cartoons.

  “What is that?” I ask in a whisper.

  “Marmot,” Remy whispers back.

  I wish Bug was here. She’d love this little roly-poly guy. I sneak my phone up and get a picture for her. Then I act like I’m taking another picture of the marmot, but really I’m snapping one of Remy to send to Kenzie. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t send her evidence of my hike with the cutest guy I’ve seen since . . . well, since Jack.

  “What are you doing?” Shiver asks in a regular tone of voice. The marmot jolts upright and scurries off the other side of the rock and into the trees.

  “I was taking a picture of the marmot, but you scared it off.” I shove my phone back into my pocket.

  “Nuh-uh. You were totally taking a picture of him.” She points at Remy, her lips curled as if she just ate a lemon.

  “No, I wasn’t. Come on, let’s keep going.” I lead the way uphill. I can’t even look at Remy, I’m so embarrassed. Thanks a lot, Shiver.

  We climb and climb and climb. Shiver’s breath is coming in little wisps.

  Now that I think about it, I’m out of breath too. This hiking stuff is hard. Of course, I’m not going to tell Remy that. He’s breathing just fine and totally looks like the outdoorsy hiking type. He’d think I was a total wimp.

  We keep moving uphill. Just when I’m sure I’m going to need to sit down and die in the middle of the trail, the trees to our right open up.

  “Wow,” I gasp. My legs are burning, but the view up here is something else.

  “There’s Old Faithful.” Remy points to the cone shape way, way down below that’s constantly pushing out steam.

  “Duh.” Shiver’s sitting on a huge rock behind us.

  I ignore her and turn to survey the landscape in front of me. All around Old Faithful, hundreds of people are gathered in a fat semicircle. Off to the right, more geysers steam. The whole place looks like it’s on fire, except there is no fire. And way off in the distance, open fields and mountains make it all seem like a painting.

  “It’s perfect,” I say in whisper, almost afraid I’ll disturb the whole scene.
/>   And then Old Faithful erupts.

  The people behind us ooh and aah, and cameras snap like a chorus. I grab my phone and join in.

  I’ve never seen anything like it. Water shoots straight up into the air, and falls back down as spray. Steam billows even higher. Even up here, I hear the whoosh of the water as it’s forced out of the ground. Dad’ll be really disappointed that he missed this. It’s a hundred times better than a stinky ball of twine. But I don’t know that it would beat singing with Jack.

  It goes on and on. When it’s finally over, I keep staring at the cone, waiting for it to happen again.

  “What did you think?” Remy asks.

  I don’t have any words.

  “It wasn’t bad,” Shiver admits. “But we could’ve watched it down there with everyone else.”

  Remy smiles at me, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Up here, with so few people, it felt like the geyser went off just for us.

  “Want to walk the rest of the trail? It goes around to some other geysers.” He pushes some curls behind his ear and all I want to do is sigh and grin. What is wrong with me? I like Jack, not this know-it-all guy. Obviously.

  “We have to get back. We’re supposed to meet her parents at noon,” Shiver says like the most boring person on the planet. “I’m calling Gran after lunch, remember?” she says to me. And I feel kind of bad for not remembering that.

  “Sorry,” I say to Remy.

  “So how long are you here?” Remy asks as we start back down the trail. Once again, Shiver’s lagging behind us. Probably with her earbuds in. Which is fine with me because that lets me talk to Remy without her butting in with something completely rude.

  “I think we’re leaving tomorrow. We’re going to Grand Teton, and then California to drop off Shiver, and then . . . I don’t know.” Except I’m really going back to Nashville tomorrow, but I can’t say that and risk Shiver overhearing it.

  “Aren’t you going back home?” He holds a tree branch back so it doesn’t smack me in the face. I wonder if Jack would’ve done the same thing. Not that I can really picture him hiking.