Rhythm & Clues: A Young Adult Novel

by Rachel Shane

  Sabrina clasps her hands in front of her and leans into the table. “I know the last thing you want me to talk about is business.”

  The men all laugh in unison, probably mistaking her for the waitress.

  “But I’m curious if any of you have seen a post-it note on the table?” She pushes back her wavy brown hair with one hand while she places the other on the shoulder of the man with gray hair and glasses. “Maybe under it?”

  Like a synchronized swimming performance, all six men duck their heads under the table. One by one they pop up, shaking their heads. Sabrina’s face falls, and she retreats back to me with her head down.

  “Maybe the clues aren’t so literal,” she says. “We could be reading them wrong.”

  I turn away from her and stare at the tables, trying to figure out where Gavin would hide the clue instead. One of the business men moves his briefcase out of the way, revealing an oval leg stand at the table. I distinctly remember banging my knee on the sharp corner of the square leg.

  I gasp. The tables must be in different locations. I tap on the podium. Emily doesn’t look up when she says, “Still a thirty minute wait.”

  “Do you stack your tables at night?”

  She holds out her hand, palm up. I groan and retrieve another twenty from my envelope.

  “Not at night.” Emily stuffs it into her pocket. “But we did clear the floor for a Sweet Sixteen party yesterday.”

  Sabrina and I shuffle away from Emily.

  “You take that half of the room. I’ll take this one.” Sabrina gestures with her arm the imaginary divider.

  “But, I’m not good at the charm stuff. How do I—”

  She moves past me and introduces herself to the next table, talking to them with her cutesy voice and irresistible smile.

  I sigh and then move forward to the closest six-person table. Women in elegant funeral-colored suits sip from water glasses, lipstick smearing the rims.

  I stand in front of them for a few seconds, waiting for them to notice me. I clear my throat. Nothing. “Um, hi,” I say.

  “We’re fine, thanks.” The closest woman smiles at me.

  “Oh, I don’t work here.”

  I glance over my shoulder. Sabrina works half the room while I manage to say two sentences.

  “Can I help you then?” one of the women asks, irritated.

  “Could you…look under your table for me?” I take a baby step closer to her.

  The women exchange confused glances.

  “There might be a post-it note.” I wish I could copy Sabrina’s charm. It sounds dry when I say it.

  The woman squints at me. “What? I don’t understand.”

  Before I can get out a few more cryptic suggestions that make me look psycho, Sabrina swoops in, grabs me by the elbow, and leads me into the bathroom.

  She waves an envelope in front of me. “It was under a different table.”

  My body thrums as I grab it from her. No writing on the outside. I run my finger under the rim of the sealed envelope.

  Inside, a post-it note holds a date: MAY 19, 1994.

  “Any significance?” I ask.

  She stares up at the ceiling as if trying to recall something. “I just did the math. I think my dad was a senior at Lockhart in 1994.”

  “And the May nineteenth part?”

  She shrugs. “My parents did get engaged while they were still in high school. Maybe that’s the date it happened on.”

  Why am I not surprised her parents got engaged so young? But at least this goes a step toward proving my suspicion that Gavin ran away because of his parents. Though I don’t see how a proposal relates. “We’ll file that info away for later. Let’s go.” We leave out a side entrance adjacent to the bathroom. This way we don’t have to face Emily again.

  “What’s next?” Sabrina asks as we head to the car.

  “Pressed leaf.”

  She stops short, eyes fixed on the parking lot. “That’s not the same Ford Focus from the warehouse, is it?” She points to a silver car parked only a few spaces away from mine.

  My heart beats fast in my ears. “Oh God. They have the clues and know where they lead.”

  Sabrina races toward my car, but I head for the Ford Focus. Sure enough, I spot the box of clues sitting on the backseat. Without thinking, I yank the door handle. The car erupts in an alarm that bleats against my skull, but the door won’t budge. It’s locked.

  “What are you doing?” Sabrina screams, her face contorted in terror.

  “Let’s confront this person. Get the info we need.” I cross my arms for emphasis.

  Sabrina marches over to me. “Moxie, no,” she shouts over the car alarm. “Gavin’s afraid for his life. What if this guy is dangerous? What if we walk into a trap? We can’t help Gavin if we’re captured too.”

  Blood drains from my face at her words. I abandon the Ford Focus and get inside my car.

  Sabrina straps herself in. “Don’t go to the next clue.”

  “What are you crazy? This person knows! We have to get the clues as fast as possible.”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe they followed us without realizing it. Moxie, your car is going ridiculously slow. They might have taken side streets or something. Let’s try to lose them.”

  “And how should I do that?” I turn right out of the parking lot anyway, heading toward the park.

  “We’ll go to my house. See if the silver car follows. If it does, then drop me off and you go get the rest of the clues and save Gavin.” Her voice is somber, yet determined.

  “And what about your parents?” I shake my head. “Sabrina, that’s a bad plan.”

  “They’re not home.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “No, I swear. My mom got a job at the church preschool. She’ll be there until three. And my dad has his construction gig across town.”

  I cluck my tongue. “And yet you didn’t mention this earlier.”

  “Why would I? You said we should get the clues before going to my house.”

  “Sabrina, I promised to be nice, but I still don’t trust you.”

  “I believe you now.” Her voice is soft, her eyes sympathetic. “Gavin’s in trouble. Someone’s following us. I know you think M+D refers to my parents, but maybe it refers to the person following us. I think the only way to save my brother is to evade this car. So let’s just go, okay?”

  I switch my blinker to the left on the off chance she’s right.

  We drive most of the way in silence, my car puttering along at the speed of a golf cart. Cars crowd the streets, probably a lot of the high school students going out for lunch. I check my rear-view mirror every few seconds, but there are no silver cars as far as I can see. A low breath leaks from my lungs.

  When we’re a few blocks away, one of the cars behind me turns off the road and the others move closer. Then I see it. The silver Ford Focus changes lanes, separated from us by several cars.

  My knuckles tighten on the wheel. “It’s behind us.”

  Sabrina sits up straighter.

  “I’ll just keep driving. Maybe we can lose them on the highway. I don’t want you—”

  “No, go to my house.” She wipes away a tear and takes a deep breath. “I need to do this.”

  I sigh, but follow her instructions except I don’t plan on ditching her. Maybe I can keep her in the car until the other one stops, the person gets out, and then I can peel away and take both of us to safety. If my car allows me.

  As I round the corner, I spot Josephine and Chuck standing in the drive, arguing, their arms flailing. Their white Volvo sits in the driveway with the trunk popped open.

  I swerve into the nearest driveway and slam on my breaks. “You little liar.”

  “No, I swear.” Sabrina twists in her seat, her eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

  I don’t want to believe her. But when I see Chuck bend down and lift one suitcase and then a second into the trunk, I have to.

  “Suitcases? Where are the
y going?” Sabrina’s voice has fear in it. “And why didn’t they tell me? Mom dropped me off at school on the way to her new job!”

  Chuck and Josephine get back in their car, slam the doors, and peel out of the driveway without enough time to buckle their seat-belts and look both ways. They speed off in the opposite direction.

  A few seconds later, the silver Ford Focus whips past us—too fast to glimpse its driver—and follows the Tullys down the road, leaving our car alone. Sabrina and I stare at each other, dumbfounded.

  Six Weeks Ago

  I’d invited Gavin to a free concert in the park as a joke, never expecting he’d say yes. Even though he’d been standing up to his parents more since dinner two weeks ago, I still didn’t think his parents would withdraw their stance on rock & roll. But much like the way I temporarily dyed my hair when I met Gavin’s parents, I couldn’t exactly show up to pick him up in my steaming turd of a car. Even with its dents and scratches, Krystal’s car was still more presentable than my own.

  So I sucked in a deep breath and pushed inside the diner where she worked the lunch shift.

  “Can I switch cars with you?” I asked Krystal in lieu of a hello.

  She wiped her hands on her apron, her platinum blonde hair twisted up into a messy bun. She wore only mascara during the day, probably so her face would remain a blank canvas before she painted it for her night job. “I’d rather you didn’t. The insurance is about to run out, and your car is already a safety hazard, what with your bumper falling off.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding. It was a long shot to ask. I braced for her to yell at me for even bringing up the subject.

  Instead, she clucked her tongue. “I have my fingers crossed the inspectors won’t notice the glue on the side-view mirror,” she joked.

  I decided to play her at her own game. “So if I damage the car, we can put it in neutral and crash it into a tree. Collect the insurance before it’s time to renew.”

  She stared at me for a minute, her eyes searching mine for something. The smile returned while she dug her keys out of her apron. “If you do get into an accident, make sure a Mercedes is at fault.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” I held her eyes to my chest, thankful she was in one of her good moods today. Thankful this one small gesture made it seem like she actually cared about me.

  Inside Krystal’s car, I tucked my hair back in a high ponytail and obscured my streaks with a pageboy cap that she used in her shows. Satisfied with the mirage, I drove to Gavin’s house and honked once. Nothing. I honked three more times before I grew impatient and headed for the door. My finger perched on the bell, but before I could press it, a muffled argument distracted me.

  I pressed my ear to the door. Framed in a small, translucent window, Josephine and Chuck huddled together right behind the door, their backs to me. I tilted my body to hide in the shadows and listened as hard as I could, my finger still hovering near the doorbell in case they discovered my presence.

  “—going to draw every neighbor to their front window, blaring that horn of hers.”

  “Just what were you thinking, Jo, letting him go out with her?” The anger in Chuck’s voice made me flinch back from the door a bit.

  “What else could I do? If we hold them too tightly, it’ll backfire. They’ll lie to us and we’ll lose all control.” Josephine lowered her voice, and I strained to hear the rest. “You want him sneaking out?”

  “What I want is for Gavin to make some decent friends. She’s nosy and manipulative. Dangerous. You saw how she helped Sabrina rebel.”

  “I don’t like this either, but I can’t lay down the law on whom he hangs out with. He’s too old for that. And she is from church.”

  Chuck snorted. “Is that supposed to make it all okay? We agreed on this, for them! Don’t forget why we’re doing this.”

  “I just feel like I’m losing them.”

  Just then, a rumbling sound made me jump back. The garage door rolled open, and I hustled back to the car as fast as possible, huffing to catch my breath.

  So the Tullys thought I was dangerous. It still stung, even though I shouldn’t be surprised.

  Gavin waved at me from inside the garage, and I tried to lean against the car in a natural way. At least he couldn’t see how my throat was closing. My arm slipped from its perch so I got in the car and tried to steady my heart. He slid into the seat next to me and removed the headphone buds from his ears. His long, floppy hair hid them from most eyes.

  “So it’s official.” A beaming smile appeared on his face. “My dad called Milford Brook and registered me. And it looks like Sabrina’s off to boarding school.”

  “Really? Your dad allowed this?” That didn’t jive with the conversation I’d just heard. “I mean, congrats.”

  “You don’t sound excited.”

  “I am, just, I didn’t think your parents were decided yet.”

  I reversed out of his driveway while Gavin tuned the radio. Bits and pieces of songs filled the car, lines cut and spliced as he rolled over them, uninterested. But when strung together so quickly, they still sounded whole. Like Gavin’s music.

  “You did a good job convincing them.” He smiled at me, a happy-go-lucky tone in his voice. Otherwise known as an oblivious tone.

  I drove a few blocks, and then pulled the car over. We both got out and switched places. His parents had finally started giving him driving lessons at his insistence, but they structured the practices on deserted roads. He wanted to tackle more realistic routes. I was more than willing to teach him. Even in Krystal’s car.

  “So where did you tell your parents you were going today?” I buckled my seat belt.

  He adjusted the rear-view mirror. “Your friends are hosting a book club.”

  I had to laugh. “What are we reading? Just so I can get the Cliff Notes it in case your parents drill me.”

  “Pride and Prejudice. It’s my mom’s favorite. Mention anything she adores and she caves right in.” He turned the ignition and eased out of the parking space.

  “Gavin, are you sure sneaking around is a good idea? Lying to your parents?” I wasn’t the most saintly person on Earth, but he had to do this because he wanted to, not because I’d encouraged him to rebel.

  “They’ve lied to me too. I’ve stopped feeling bad.” He paused at a stop sign, looking left, right, and left again even though no cars were anywhere in sight. For someone so concerned with playing by the rules, I was surprised to hear this declaration out of his mouth.

  “Um, I’m going to need more info than that.”

  “They act all religious, right? Except, we get all dressed up for church, head down to services, and then leave before it starts.” He hesitated at a yellow light, but then gunned the engine. “Well, my mom stays. But my dad, Sabrina, and I only stay for the service on holidays.”

  I fanned my hand in front of my chest. “I’m hyperventilating. I don’t believe this.”

  He laughed. “The excuse is the minister has views on certain bible passages that don’t match dad’s own and those are the Sunday services Sabrina and I skip. But the thing is, my dad sometimes doesn’t even bother to check what the service is about that day.”

  I let this sink in. “It does sound strange, but maybe your dad just isn’t as religious as your mom but keeps pretending so you learn good values?”

  He turned the car onto a crowded road, merging expertly into traffic patterns. “Yeah, I’ve thought of that. But there’s something my mom’s lying about too.”

  I waited while he concentrated on driving.

  “She didn’t graduate from boarding school with my dad like she tells us.” He checked his rear-view mirror, then both side-view mirrors. “She’s really a year younger than my dad, and a few years ago when my grandma died and we were cleaning out her house, I found Mom’s high school diploma stuffed in a drawer. She graduated from the local public school in the town she grew up in. All her report cards were there too, so she did go to boarding school for three ye
ars. When I asked them about it, they stumbled over their answer, claiming the diploma I found was a fake they created as a joke once.”

  I cover my hand with my mouth. “Wow. Worst. Excuse. Ever.”

  “Tell me about it. And of course, with my grandparents both gone, I couldn’t ask them. That’s when I started keeping stuff from my parents too, trading some kid my bike for his old mp3 player when he got an iPhone. Told my parents the bike was stolen and they promptly bought me a new one. Getting the digital music composition software was harder.” He patted his pocket where it lay concealed. The car veered to the shoulder and Gavin corrected his driving.

  “What’d you trade for that?”

  “My body.”

  I must have looked shocked because he winked. “I’m just kidding.” He bit his lip. “But I did do something really bad to get it. I stole from my parents. One dollar at a time. Sometimes just quarters so they wouldn’t notice. It took me two years to save up. Then I ditched movie night at church and walked to the Best Buy a few blocks away.”

  I place my palm on his shoulder. “Gavin, I totally understand why you did it.”

  He raised a brow at me. “Only you would condone stealing and lying.”

  “It’s not like you were stealing from your parents for drug money.”

  His lips twisted into a playful smile. “Sometimes music feels like a drug to me.”

  At the outdoor concert, the sun scorched my bare shoulders. I wore a halter—the only kind of tank top that hid my heart surgery scar. Sunglasses crowned Gavin’s head, pushing back his hair, and he slathered on sunscreen so his parents wouldn’t catch on to our outdoor activities.

  A makeshift stage rose above the crowd scattered across the grassy park. Gavin bobbed his head to the music and tapped his hands against his thighs. I stood beside him and watched the crowd because I long gave up on trying to see over them. Instead I let the rock music burrow into my heart.

  When the second band finished their set, the crowd broke apart like a zipper, everyone scattering for the concession stand before the third band finished setting up. People pushed us left and right, trying to get past. I inched closer to Gavin so we wouldn’t get separated.