by Gail Nall
“Thanks for getting us out of that one,” I tell him.
“No problem. This trail is a really good one. Lots of wildflowers and a pretty creek. You know, if this doesn’t work out and you guys come back through here,” he says, almost as if he’s hoping I flame out at the auditions.
And I admit—once I get past Remy wishing I’d mess up—it sounds kind of good. Strolling hand in hand with him along a trail, flowers of every color bobbing in the breeze, sunlight sparkling on the water, birds chirping.
I kind of wish I could have both—music career and my family, Remy and Kenzie, and Nashville and the mountains. But I can’t. I have to choose, and really, there’s no choice. I have to follow my dreams. And sometimes I get so homesick it feels like all the lonely and the sad have filled up the place where my heart used to be.
“Maybe another time,” I tell him with a smile.
His face falls just a little, but he recovers fast and starts quizzing Bug on the plants growing around us. It’s quiet here, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze through the trees. There are a few other cars parked in the lot across the road.
I’m about to ask Remy if we can leave yet, when the brush rustles behind me.
I freeze. “What is that?”
We’re all silent as we peer into the tall pines. More rustling, and something large and brown moves slowly through the trees.
“It’s a bear,” Shiver whispers, panic in her voice. She jumps up, and I can’t help it—I’m right there with her.
Remy holds up a hand. “It’s not a bear.” He squints into the trees.
The thing moves again, and now Bug backs down the trail toward our bikes.
A large oblong head bobs into view between a break in the pines. It’s chewing slowly and not even looking at us.
“What is that?” Shiver asks through her teeth.
“Moose,” Remy answers.
“It doesn’t have antlers,” I say. Every moose I’ve seen in pictures has looked like Bullwinkle—with giant, scary-looking, person-killing antlers on its head.
“That’s because it’s a female,” Bug says. “We should go. They can get really aggressive.”
“Especially if she has a baby around,” Remy says, almost completing Bug’s sentence.
Quiet as librarians, we shuffle back to the trailhead, where Remy unlocks our bikes. Keeping one eye on the trail in case of sudden moose charge, I climb onto my bike. When everyone’s ready, Remy leads the way past the Flagg Ranch lodge to the main road.
The sun shines over the trees as we start riding on. And on and on and on. Until my rear end feels like it’s fused to the bike seat and my legs start to burn. I’ve definitely gone farther than I did that day with Kenzie last year.
I slow so that I can pedal next to Remy. “I thought you said we were close to Yellowstone.”
“We are,” he says.
Okay, so his idea of close and my idea of close are two totally different things. “Like, how many miles close?”
Remy juts out a lip as he thinks. “Maybe a couple more miles?”
I can survive a couple more miles. If I can breathe, that is. I pedal harder and take up the lead again.
Until I run out of air and have to fall back.
“We’ve barely even started and Wilderness Chick here is already worn out,” Shiver says as she coasts past me.
Whatever. I can totally hear her trying to catch her breath up there. I wish Kenzie was here. We could lean against each other and complain about the whole thing. Except I’m partly doing this to get back to Kenzie, so that doesn’t really make sense. Maybe Mom, then. She’d be panting and sweating right beside me, and we’d exchange looks and “are we there yet” complaints from behind everyone else. Except that makes me feel guilty for leaving all over again.
Guess I’m alone in my whole death-by-bicycle thing. Except for Shiver.
“Don’t go too fast,” Bug says from right behind me. “You might get altitude sickness.”
Right.
Yellowstone, Yellowstone, Yellowstone. The word rolls around in my head. We’re almost there. We have to be. I just have to keep pedaling. Which is not easy, considering that my legs hurt and my back hurts, and I think even my toes hurt.
Not more than fifteen minutes later, we roll up to cars parked at a pull-off. A whole bunch of tourists are snapping pictures of themselves and their families in front of the Yellowstone sign.
“Break?” Remy asks.
“God, yes,” Shiver says.
“Sure,” I say. What I really want to do is dive off my bike into some grass and sleep for the rest of the day. Instead, I roll onto the pull-off like a normal biking person, climb off, and try not to plop down too fast against the short post holding up a wooden railing near the sign. Last thing I want is Bug and Remy thinking I have attitude sickness or whatever it’s called.
Shiver collapses next to me and lies down, eyes closed, while Bug inspects a pretty yellow flower growing nearby. I gulp some water and eat a granola bar from my backpack in two bites.
“How much farther?” Shiver asks from the ground.
Remy’s not even sitting. Instead, he chews trail mix while he watches tourists mug for the camera. “Oh, I don’t know. Still over a hundred miles. Next landmark is Lewis Lake.”
Shiver peers at him with one eye open. “And where exactly is Lewis Lake?”
“In Yellowstone,” Bug answers. “Don’t you remember driving by it on the way down here?”
“I know it’s in Yellowstone.” Shiver closes her eyes again. She’s probably rolling them under her lids.
“We can’t stay here long,” Remy says. He closes his bag of trail mix and stuffs it into his backpack.
“Wait,” I say. “We need a picture.”
“Really?” Shiver asks. “You’re just like your parents.”
“Am not. I just want to remember this, that’s all.” Am I really like Mom and Dad? I can’t be, right? I mean, I’d never pluck my kids out of their normal lives and dream auditions and plop them into a hideous motor home and visit creepy abandoned places like Hell’s Half Acre and offer to drive obnoxious girls named Shiver home to California. Instead, I’m Completely Sensible Maya—the only Casselberry who has her head on straight.
Remy and Bug pose on either side of the sign. Shiver heaves a sigh and joins them like I’m asking her to walk the plank or something.
“Smile!” I yell. Remy grins, Bug gives herself bunny ears, and Shiver rolls her eyes.
Perfect.
We pedal away, up the road toward Lewis Lake, which Remy says is about ten miles away. I start daydreaming about Kenzie’s reaction when I step off the bus in Nashville. I’m wondering if I should let Jack know I’m coming for sure or surprise him mid-rehearsal with Lacey, when I hear Remy and Bug talking behind me.
“You’d be great at it,” Remy’s saying.
“Really?” Even without looking at her, I can tell Bug is in awe.
“Yeah, you should talk to my parents when we get back. They can tell you everything you need to know.”
“Need to know about what?” I ask over my shoulder.
“About being a park ranger!” Bug says.
“You’d be really good at that, Bugby,” I tell her. She’d be the perfect park ranger. She already knows everything about every place we stop. They probably wouldn’t even have to teach her anything.
After this, we’re quiet. I don’t know about everyone else, but just keeping my feet pushing the pedals is taking all of my energy. Plus, the road is really narrow through here and the traffic has definitely picked up.
I’m dying to ask how much farther to the lake. But every time I almost let it slip from my mouth, I force it back down. Partly because I’m afraid it’ll still be forever away, but mostly because I don’t want Remy to know how exhausted I am yet.
I peek back at him. He’s turning his head left and right, taking in the scenery. Which is pine trees. Lots and lots of pine trees. He barely looks as if he’s breathing ha
rd, and he definitely doesn’t look like his toes hurt. He’s hardly even broken a sweat, while I pulled off my sweatshirt back at the Yellowstone sign and tied it around my waist. Also, my backpack is creating a massive sweaty spot on the back of my two shirts now. Which will make me look super cute when we stop again, I’m sure.
Then I realize I’ve been staring at him for who knows how long. I yank my eyes away before he can notice.
Shiver’s still rolling along, but looking more droopy than Remy. About as droopy as I feel, actually. Why hasn’t she turned around yet? I mean, she’s only coming to keep an eye on me. That can’t possibly be a good enough reason to put yourself through this bike-riding torture.
The trees finally thin out some, and I feel like I can breathe again. Mostly. Now there are rolling hills and a river that sometimes flows close to the road. Remy points out some mule deer grazing nearby, and I finally have to ask.
“So, um . . . how much farther to the lake?”
“I don’t know, maybe about five miles? Or it could be closer to seven.”
So not helpful. Somehow I thought Remy would know the exact mileage. Like, 4.2 miles and then turn left. Kind of like the GPS Mom had in her car back at home.
I wonder what time it is. It’s got to be three or four in the afternoon by now. Although that wouldn’t be good, because Mom would be back, and I really need to be a lot closer to Cody by the time that happens. I’m trying to figure out how I can reach around, open my backpack, and snag my phone and a granola bar, when Remy speaks up.
“There’s the sign!”
I squint ahead. Sure enough, a little brown sign announces Lewis Lake with little pictures of a picnic table, a campground, and something that looks like a boat. Up in front, Shiver waits for a car to go by, then makes the left into the turnoff. We roll down a short pine-lined road that opens up into a parking lot with picnic tables set back in the trees—pine trees, of course. I don’t think any other kind of tree grows here. Shiver tosses Dad’s bike into the grass and promptly sprawls out on one of the benches of the closest picnic table. I try not to think about how Dad would’ve never thrown his bike aside like that.
I park my bike gently, and almost have to peel myself off the seat. Every single muscle in my body is on fire. I hobble over to the other side of the picnic table like I’m a hundred years old. Bug leaps off Mom’s bike and stretches, while Remy gets off his as if riding a bazillion miles is a normal, everyday thing for him.
Which it might be. I don’t know.
I pull out my phone. 9:36 a.m. Seriously? Oh well, I suppose that means we’re making good time. It would be soooo nice if another ranger came by and gave us a ride again.
“Can we eat?” Bug asks. “I’m starving.”
Remy opens his backpack and brings out trail mix, peanut butter sandwiches, beef jerky, and a pouch of tuna.
I gape at it for a second. Then I pull out my food.
“Got enough granola bars?” Remy asks with a smile.
“Maybe.” I pretty much dumped all the boxes of granola bars into my backpack. “Um . . . trade you a couple for one of those sandwiches.”
Remy slides me over a baggie with a peanut butter sandwich and accepts two chocolate chip granola bars.
“Food’s in your backpack,” Bug says to Shiver.
Shiver opens an eye. “You opened my backpack?”
“Just to throw in some food. So we wouldn’t starve.” Bug shrugs, totally ignorant of the fact that Shiver looks ready to explode into some huge, raging fit.
What does she have in that backpack?
“I can get it out.” Bug takes a step toward Shiver.
Shiver bolts upright and yanks her bag toward her. “I’ll find it.” She barely unzips the backpack and thrusts a hand inside.
And pulls out a can of green beans.
“There wasn’t a lot to choose from.” Bug’s already flipping open the can opener gadget on her Swiss Army knife. “Dad and Maya took all the hiking food.”
Shiver unzips her bag farther. Four small boxes of cereal, a jar of peanut butter, a bag of wasabi peas (Mom’s favorite), and a can of cat food join the green beans on the table. Shiver picks up the cat food and raises her eyebrows at Bug.
“That’s not to eat. That’s to distract bears.”
Shiver doesn’t even question this. Instead, she surveys everything else on the table. “Why was all of this in my bag?” she asks Bug.
“Because I have maps, a guidebook, a compass, a first aid kit, a—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Here, peanut butter?” Shiver holds the jar out to Bug.
But Bug’s already opening the can of green beans. Only my little sister would pick cold green beans over peanut butter straight from the jar.
Shiver tosses the cereal, the wasabi peas, and the can of Tastee Time Salmon and Anchovy Dinner back into her bag. “Anyone got a spoon?” she asks.
Bug pops the lid from the green beans. Flipping the Swiss Army knife this way and that, she unfolds a spoon and passes it to Shiver.
Of course. She really would make an awesome park ranger.
“How far have we gone?” I ask Remy through bites of heavenly peanut butter and wheat bread.
“About thirty-five or so miles from Jackson Lake Lodge. So, a little farther for you guys.”
I round that up to a nice forty miles and report that in a text to Kenzie. Which doesn’t go through. I’m chewing on the last of yet another granola bar and rebraiding my hair, when Remy disappears under the picnic table.
Chapter 20
3 days until Dueling Duets auditions
“What are you doing?” Shiver asks Remy in the loudest voice possible.
“Shh! Act like I’m not here. They might recognize me,” he hisses around a stick of beef jerky. He’s shoved a hat on his head too.
“What?” she says.
I kick her from across the table and nod at the ranger’s car that has just pulled in. Shiver glances at it and then sits up straight.
“I should go over there and tell them exactly what’s going on,” she says as she scoops out another hunk of peanut butter.
Bug frowns at her. “You’d ruin the whole adventure.”
“Adventure? Seriously? My whole body hurts and we’re probably going to get run down by a herd of buffalo.” Shiver shoves the spoon into her mouth.
“Bison,” Bug says as she watches the ranger get out of her car and make her way to the first picnic table.
“You didn’t say anything to Ranger Hicks,” I say to Shiver. “So I really doubt you would now.” I hope. I loop the ponytail holder around the end of my braid and flip my hair over my shoulder.
“How do you know?” Shiver screws the lid back onto the peanut butter jar.
“Don’t you dare! You’ve ruined every other plan I’ve had.”
“Because they were all stupid plans!”
“They were not! That old couple was really nice.”
“Really nice murderers, you mean.”
I kick her again. She kicks back.
“Ow!” Under the table, Remy’s got a hand to his cheek. Ugh, I can’t believe I just kicked the guy I kind of, maybe, sort of like.
“Sorry,” I say. Then I sit up and glare at Shiver.
“Just act normal!” Remy hisses from down around our feet.
“Looks like she’s stopping at every table,” Bug says.
“Then how are we going to explain a boy hiding under ours?” Shiver asks.
“She’s coming,” Bug says through closed lips.
“Don’t say anything!” I whisper to Shiver. She just shrugs and acts like she hasn’t made up her mind.
“Good morning!” the ranger calls. She’s smiling, and has long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail under her Smokey the Bear hat. She’s like a grown-up Bug.
“Hi!” Bug says all chirpily.
“I’m just making sure everyone is aware that we’ve had bear activity around here lately. So we need to make sure that all trash goes
into the locked bins over there, and that nothing is left out on the tables.” She points across the parking lot to some big brown bins, which are everywhere around here. They’re practically impossible to open. You have to push a latch and pull up at the same time, usually with an armload of something gross that’s spilling all over you.
“Great, thanks!” I say, just as chirpy as my sister.
“Is he okay?” The smiling ranger points at Remy, who she can totally see under the picnic table.
“Oh, yeah, fine! Just looking for . . . a . . . um . . . contact lens I dropped,” Remy says. Then he starts feeling around the cement like a blind person.
“Need some help?” The ranger squats down but Remy waves behind him.
“No, no thanks! I’ll find it.”
I dive under the table too. “I’ll help him, but thank you!” I shout up to the ranger as I pretend to look for a contact lens. It’s a good thing I’m freaked out that she might not buy our story, or I’d be even more extra freaked out that I’m right next to Remy.
The ranger waves and walks back toward her car.
“That was close,” I say to Remy.
“Yup, and I know her too. She was in Grand Teton last summer.”
The ranger gets to her car, stops, and looks back at us.
“Uh-oh.” Remy flips around so fast his hat knocks forward over his curls. “Is she coming back?” he whispers.
“I don’t know.” Please no, please no, please no. Except she definitely is. And we were so close. She must’ve recognized Remy right before he turned around.
“Hey, guys!” she shouts. “Where are your parents?”
Launching the boat? Running to the store? Taking a jog? Grooming a dog? On a hike in Grand Teton, with no idea where we are? No, Maya, think!
“We’re staying up at the next campground. You should see our RV. It’s probably the ugliest thing ever,” Shiver says out of nowhere. “Mom and Dad said we could picnic and bike back, as long as we come home by eleven.”
The ranger squints down the road into the sun, almost as if she can see that campground from here. “That’s got to be, what, eight miles?”
“Yeah, that’s why they dropped us off. They wouldn’t let us bike here and back. Because, you know, sixteen miles would be a really long way.”