Out of Tune

by Gail Nall

  “I wish. My parents are living some insane dream. They thought it would be fun to move into an RV and drive all over the place. They actually sold our house.”

  Remy’s eyes widen. “Wow, that sounds great.”

  I laugh. “To you, maybe. I just want to go home. I hate Bertha.”

  “Bertha?”

  “The RV. It’s like being stuffed into a tiny ugly can with your entire family . . . and her.” I jerk a finger back toward Shiver.

  “I used to hate being dragged out here every summer. Every May, Mom leaves for the Tetons. And the day after school ends, Dad and I drive to Yellowstone, stay a week, and then join Mom. For the whole summer. I always get back the week before school starts. I miss out on everything that happens back home.”

  “Every year?” I can’t imagine not having all my summers full of fun with Kenzie.

  “Yup. I hated it. Like, so much that I’d beg to go back home and stay with my cousins. One time, I even thought I’d bike home, by myself. All the way to Denver. Crazy, right?”

  I nod and make some kind of noise in agreement, except . . . it’s not that crazy at all, considering how many ways I’ve already tried to get home.

  “But after a while, I got used to it, and now I wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Remy goes on. “While everyone else is swimming in a concrete pool, I’m swimming under waterfalls.”

  When I look over at him, he’s smiling, as if leaving everyone makes him super happy. “Huh” is all I can manage to say. I really like swimming in a concrete pool with Kenzie. Although watching Old Faithful was nothing short of amazing. And I love the mountains. But it’s not Nashville, and I belong in Nashville.

  As we wander down the trail, he talks about his parents. His mom helps visitors with things to do, while his dad does nature talks and leads guided hikes. Something I could totally picture Bug doing when she’s grown up.

  Before I’m ready, we’re back in front of the lodge. From here, I can’t see the area with the big rocks and great view high on the hill, even though I know that if anyone is still up there, they can see us.

  “I should go find my dad,” Remy says.

  “Thanks for the hike.” I want to smile at him, but for some reason, I feel shy all of a sudden.

  “Maybe I’ll see you guys in Grand Teton,” he says. “We could hike again.”

  I go warm all over as he waves good-bye.

  “I hope not,” Shiver says as soon as he’s out of earshot.

  “Why are you so mean?” I ask. “He was really nice.”

  “He’s full of himself,” she says as she runs her fingers through her blue hair.

  “You didn’t hear most of what he said. You were busy listening to Death Thrash or whatever you’ve got on that thing.” I point to her phone with the earbud wires snaking out.

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m listening to. You know everything, Maya.” She stuffs the earbuds back in and we wait in silence for my parents and Bug. I wonder how many secret hiking trails Remy knows about, if he likes country music at all, and if he has any friends here.

  I don’t know why I’m thinking about him. I should be thinking about how much I’m going to need to practice once I get back home.

  When my family arrives, Bug’s full of energy and facts about disgusting creepy-crawlies, and Dad’s got a handful of brochures and a book called Your First Backpacking Trip.

  I eye the book. “Mom?”

  She sighs. “Your dad’s talked me into letting him try backpacking overnight by himself. One of the rangers told him about some easy trails in Grand Teton that go around the lakes.”

  “I’m going to test it out, and then we can all go!” Dad says.

  Mom looks at me and shakes her head just slightly.

  “I want to take an overnight hike,” Bug says.

  “Maybe next time, Bugby.” Dad pats her on the shoulder.

  “Why just one night? You could go for longer,” Shiver says out of nowhere.

  Dad smiles at her like she’s suggested the best thing ever. “That would be great, except we need to get you home.”

  Shiver shrugs. “I’m not in any hurry.”

  As we walk toward the truck, I fall back with Mom. “Is it safe to let him go by himself? I mean, who’s going to keep him from getting eaten by a bear or falling into a lake?”

  Mom sighs. “We’re going to have to trust that he’ll be okay. I’m thinking I might go a couple miles in with him, just to make sure.”

  Okay, this makes me feel just a little nervous about putting the next step of OMGH into action. What if Dad goes out hiking and does something stupid, and I’m not here to help?

  My phone picks up the inn’s wi-fi and buzzes with a text from Kenzie just as we reach the truck.

  M—911! J asked L to be his DD partner!

  I grip the door handle. I can’t even breathe. I knew this was going to happen. I should’ve been there already to stop it. And Jack didn’t even have the decency to text me! I’m half angry at him and half at myself for not getting home faster.

  But I will be home in time for the audition. And once I’m there, Jack will have to try out with me. After all, he asked me first, not Lacey.

  He just has to.

  Chapter 13

  7 days until Dueling Duets auditions

  Midnight again. It’s just barely T minus 7 days. I shove those tummy-rumbling feelings of guilt about leaving Dad and his scary hiking idea behind by reading Kenzie’s text again. I couldn’t get any more information from her, because the second I got into the truck, the wi-fi disappeared.

  I make a wish to the TTT, touch my audition shirt for luck, and sneak down my ladder for the second night in a row. Mom’s laptop is on the table. I unplug it and carry it to the passenger seat in the front, which is probably the best place to make the least noise. Bug is right above me, but of course, she’ll sleep right through this.

  I settle into the worn brown seat. When I open the laptop, it makes that chime that practically screams, “Hey, wake up! Someone’s on your computer!” I cringe and wait to hear footsteps.

  Okay, guess that wasn’t as loud as I thought. Time to get to work.

  I pull up the internet browser, which is crazy slow since we can barely get a wi-fi signal from the lodge. My phone can’t pick it up at all. When Google finally pops up, I type, fly home.

  Ninety gazillion matches. I click the first one and wait and wait and wait. When it loads, I plug in all the information. It tells me the nearest airport is in Bozeman, Montana. Wherever that is.

  Whatever. I’ll figure that out later. I hit the submit button. After what feels like an hour, the results pop up.

  $460?! Seriously? Mom is going to kill me when she sees that on her bill.

  But desperate times call for desperate measures, right? At least, that’s what Kenzie would say. Making it onto national TV to jump-start my career (and save Jack from Lacey) is totally worth $460. And I did try to talk to Mom and tell her how much I needed to go home, so it’s not as if I jumped right away to doing something as crazy as this.

  I select the one-way flight to Nashville and fill in the boxes. Then I pull the folded piece of notebook paper from behind my phone and smooth it flat on the laptop.

  Mom’s Visa number. Something twinges in my stomach as I type it in. $460 is a lot of money. I don’t know how much Mom makes with her job. It’s enough to keep gas in Bertha and food in the fridge, but is it enough to pay for a really expensive flight home? What if I charge this on her card and then she and Dad can’t afford to buy groceries? She has that worried look on her face when she works sometimes. I’m not sure if it’s because of work or money.

  I type the numbers in and stare at them.

  It’s an emergency, right? I mean, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  I type in the expiration date. The next blank asks for a CSC.

  What the what is a CSC?

  I click on the little blue question mark next to the blank. CSC is the
three-digit code on the back of your credit card, the little pop-up box tells me.

  I groan. I didn’t even know that existed, so obviously I didn’t write it down when I copied the card number and expiration date last night. I could give up, or I could look for Mom’s purse.

  “Maya?” a sleepy voice says from behind me.

  Holy potatoes! A little shriek leaps from my mouth, and the laptop slides off my knees as I jump up.

  “What are you doing with Mom’s computer?” Dad’s standing behind me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  I bend down to get the laptop. The screen glows extra bright, tattling on me.

  “What’s going on?” Mom appears behind Dad. “Why do you have my laptop?” She steps around him and pulls it from my hands before I have time to close the airplane ticket window.

  I brace myself for yelling or at least a guilt trip for almost charging $460 to her credit card and being a horrible daughter, but all Mom does is sigh.

  She clicks the laptop shut and says, “Come back to the table and sit down.”

  It’s like I’m walking to my own death—or maybe the dentist—when I follow her and Dad to the kitchen table. I slide into the bus seat on the opposite side from them.

  Dad flips on the little battery-powered light on the wall. It makes their faces look sort of bluish. I sit on my hands and wonder if I should say something first.

  “Dad and I had a little talk earlier,” Mom says.

  This does not sound good at all.

  “We know this has been harder on you than any of the rest of us,” Dad says with very un-Dad-like seriousness. “And you’ve been such a trouper about the whole thing. I want you to know how much that means to me. And to your mom.”

  Okay, there’s no way they know about the hitchhiking plan or about me trying to find a ride with another RV. I relax just a tiny bit.

  “So we were talking tonight, and while we wish we could afford to let you fly home for that TV show, we can’t.” Just hearing Dad say that makes me feel awful about almost spending so much money. And that sad look on Mom’s face doesn’t help either.

  I look at my hands. “I’m really sorry. It’s just . . . I promised Jack I’d be there.”

  “But you’ve already told him you can’t do it, right?” Mom asks.

  I nod, even though it’s not entirely the truth.

  “I’m sure he can find another partner. No shortage of girls wanting to be country music stars in Nashville!” Dad smiles as he says this. Little does he know how true it is.

  They don’t get my passion for music. At all. I don’t even want to talk about it, because I know it won’t change anything.

  “It’s Kenzie, too, isn’t it?” Mom says softly. “You miss her.”

  I nod, because I do miss Kenzie. That’s not exactly why I’m so desperate to get home, but it is one of the reasons.

  “What if we made sure you had time to Skype with her?” Dad says.

  “We can go up to the lodge in the morning,” Mom adds.

  They both have this hopeful, “please love us” look on their faces. Skyping is so not the same as seeing Kenzie in person, but it’s not a horrible idea.

  “Okay,” I say anyway. “Thanks!” I force a smile. Then I stretch my arms out and yawn before they can ground me or anything. “I think I’ll go back to bed.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Mom holds out her hand.

  I drop the handwritten credit card number into it, even though it feels like I’m giving up my last chance to get home. Not that I could’ve used it anyway without feeling awful for the rest of my life.

  “I’m sorry I almost did that. So, um, good night?” I slide out of the seat and take a step away from the table.

  “Not so fast,” Mom says.

  I should’ve known there was no escaping this part. I turn around just in time to see Mom nudge Dad. If I didn’t know what was coming next, I’d think it was funny that Mom has to remind Dad to be the bad guy every once in a while.

  He holds out his hand. I’d complain about giving up my phone, but it’s kind of hard to when I know exactly how guilty I am.

  “So . . . when can I have it back?” I don’t know how I can live without talking to Kenzie. And what if Jack comes to his senses and finally texts me?

  “Tomor—” Dad starts, but Mom interrupts him.

  “In a few days,” she says. “This will give you plenty of time to think about what you did. And what you would have done to our family if you had gone through with it.”

  My face goes warm. I’m super glad I didn’t buy that ticket. “Okay,” I say in a teeny, tiny voice.

  “We expect you never to do anything like that again,” Dad says.

  I know it’s serious when Dad’s using his Stern Father voice. “I’m sorry,” I whisper as I clutch my hands behind my back and wish I could escape to my cubbyhole.

  “Maya.” Mom touches my arm as she and Dad get up from the table. “We love you. And I promise this will get easier as time goes on. You have your whole life ahead of you to audition for as many singing shows as you want. Now, get some sleep.”

  They disappear into the back of the RV. I trail behind them, and once I’m tucked in under my blankets and stuffed animals and Hugo and my shimmery silver shirt, I imagine the OMGH list in my head. This is the only opportunity for Dueling Duets (and Jack—even though I’m kind of mad at him right now). There’s no way life in Bertha will ever get easier.

  Chapter 14

  7 days until Dueling Duets auditions

  The ride through Yellowstone and into Grand Teton National Park gives me lots of time to think. Mostly because I don’t have a phone. I think about OMGH, of course. But also about my duet. I’ve barely been able to practice since Shiver arrived. I need to find a place where she can’t hear me, or else I’ll be completely out of tune by the time I get home.

  Because I am definitely going home.

  Somehow.

  Bug smiles at me and passes me a purring Hugo. Sometimes sisters know exactly what you need.

  When we pull into the campsite, I race through my setting-up-camp chores. Then I give Hugo a kiss on the head, grab my backpack, and go in search of a non-Shiver-populated place to work on my song.

  Behind Bertha is a path through the trees. The painted deer glare at my back as I step onto the little trail and Dad yells, “Happy exploring!”

  I glance behind me, just to make sure Shiver isn’t following.

  The path isn’t too long, and before I know it, I’m standing on a ledge overlooking an enormous blue lake with mountains soaring on the far side. The peaks are so high, they’re hidden by puffy white clouds.

  Okay. Even I can admit this is kind of amazing. Like, take-your-breath-away amazing. But I’d trade all the gorgeous snow-capped mountains in the world to be back at our house in Nashville, hanging out with Kenzie, seeing Dad go to work, and preparing for my audition (and still having a partner!) without having to hide out.

  I forgot to grab a camp chair, so I plop down right on top of the flattened pine needles and sand. My feet dangle over the side of the ledge, which would make Mom crazy if she saw. She has a thing about heights. I drop my backpack and wonder if I’m far enough away from Bertha. I’ll have to chance it, though. I need the practice. Besides, Shiver probably has her earbuds firmly planted in her ears.

  I do some vocal warm-ups. It feels good to finally let my voice out. It always clears my head and makes it easier to think. A kayaker glides through the water below, and the boats moored there bob in the waves whenever the wind blows. Every once in a while, footsteps sound on the path behind me. I check to make sure the footsteps aren’t Shiver’s, and then I go back to warming up. And thinking.

  Anything that costs more than one hundred dollars to get home is out. So what does that leave? Not much. At least, nothing that I haven’t already tried.

  I stand (Marianne Phelps says that your voice is always more powerful when you stand because you can breathe more de
eply) and launch into the song, singing straight up to the mountains. It doesn’t sound too bad, considering I’ve barely practiced. When I finish, I run through it one more time, paying careful attention to the emotion I put behind the words.

  The sun sinks lower, until it’s hidden behind the sharp-topped mountains across the lake. The sky goes all pink and gold just as I finish the last of the song.

  All of this practice has got to lead to something. What can I do?

  Kenzie couldn’t come up with any good ideas. At least, not ones that don’t involve faking broken bones. I sit down again and hum the chorus of the song.

  Wait! Maybe I’ve been asking the wrong person. I need someone who’s been in this situation. Who’s probably thought through all the possibilities. I need Remy! But how am I going to find him? It’s not like I got his number or anything. Just the thought of seeing him again makes me feel as if I’ve run for miles.

  Campfire smoke and the scent of cooking meat waft through the trees and distract me from daydreams of running into Remy on a trail, in a restaurant, on top of a mountain. . . . My stomach growls. Something sharp pokes me on the cheek.

  What the . . . ?

  I slap my face harder than I mean to. A squished brown dot with legs comes away on my hand. Eww. I wipe the dead mosquito off on a nearby tree trunk. Another one stings my neck, and suddenly there are three on my arm.

  “Aggh!” Some animalistic sound erupts from my throat. I grab my backpack and run for the campsite.

  “Maya?” Mom’s dancing around like a disjointed puppet, slapping her arms.

  “What’s with these mosquitoes?” I jog in place as I wave my hands in front of my face. The tiny vampires hover just beyond my hands, waiting for an opportunity to feed on any patch of skin they can find.

  “This is insane! Dad’s looking for the bug spray.” Mom waves an arm at the RV.

  Dad flies out the door, aiming the canister at Bug, who’s examining the welts on her hand. He dances around her, spritzing here and there.

  “Shiver?” he asks when he finishes with Bug.