Rhythm & Clues: A Young Adult Novel

by Rachel Shane

  I expect a biting comeback. But instead she just nods. “Sorry.”

  I point at the phrase Now, therefore, in consideration with the mutual promises, benefits, and covenants contained herein, which in my eyes, is basically gibberish. “Do you guys understand this?”

  They shake their heads. There are several places where Chuck signed his name, but a blank line rests under each spot, as if perpetually waiting for another signature. Dennis Cunningham’s name appears printed several times on the documents. Maybe he’s the absent signature.

  “I have no idea what it says, but I know someone who might.” Isla checks her watch. “Becca doesn’t have lunch for another few hours. I can try her then.”

  “Maybe this is the evidence Gavin referred to.” I animate the pages one more time. “But then why do we need a VCR?”

  Isla shakes her head. “Legal documents can’t be evidence.”

  “Wait, what’s that?” Sabrina yanks the papers out of my hands. She flips the last sheet over, revealing handwriting on the back of the page.

  “All it takes is one call, my friend, and that happy little family of yours will blow away like dust on a prairie. Stay away from Lockhart. And from me.”

  –Check if verbal threat = legal confession.

  “Wow, that’s a really creepy quote.” Isla raises her eyebrow at us.

  “It’s definitely my dad’s handwriting.” Sabrina purses her lips. “But he would never talk like that.”

  The clarification note-to-self beside the quote makes me think she’s right. “Maybe Dennis said it? I mean, his name is all over these papers. Maybe Chuck wanted to check if the verbal threat would hold up in court.”

  Isla nods with my train of thought. “Does that mean Dennis was the one who broke in?”

  The blood drains from my face at that thought.

  “Let’s just wait for Becca to help us interpret.” Isla snaps several photos of the documents and texts them to her BFF, whose only legal training comes in the form of watching a lot of TV shows where lawyers flaunt around shirtless.

  Sabrina stares dumbfounded at the documents. “What now? We’ve found all Gavin’s clues but we still don’t know what they mean or where the hell he is or what evidence he means.”

  My head snaps up. “We have to go to Lockhart. Someone was snooping at 90C, your parents went to trick you into not going there. I think whatever we need to find, it’s there.”

  We spend the next few minutes gathering everything we need to bring from the documents, to the VCR, to a few changes of clothes plucked from the stash Sabrina purchased at the mall. We move fast, as if we might be racing against an unknown clock.

  “It wasn’t a date.” Isla’s words punctuate the silence as I trek to the car.

  My temples pound and I stop short. She doesn’t owe me this info. I haven’t even asked.

  “I wanted it to be one.” She spins around, meeting my eye. “I kept trying to flirt with him. Touch his arm a bit. Stuff like that. I even tried to kiss him.”

  My throat tightens. “Did he…kiss you back?”

  “I leaned in.” She sighs. “And he leaned away, started touching the wall behind him as if it was the most interesting thing on earth.”

  “Thanks.” I shuffle my feet along the carpeted step. “For saying that. And hey, for what it’s worth. I don’t hate you anymore.”

  “I think we might actually be friends again.” Isla laughs. “Everyone’s going to be shocked when we get back to school.”

  Present Day

  In the car, Isla tries to stay above the speed limit as much as possible without getting caught. Her radar detector and GPS help. We’re only an hour into the six-hour drive when her cell phone rings. Blue tooth transmits the call through the speaker. She glances down at the number, and then scrambles to send the call to voice mail.

  “Who was that?” I ask. I stupidly hope it’s Gavin even though I know she wouldn’t have canceled the call.

  “Her dad,” Sabrina says, reading the dashboard touch-screen.

  I lean forward into the space between the two front seats. “I know you’re mad at him, but it would help if you asked him what he knows about Dennis Cunningham.”

  The phone rings again. Her finger hovers over the options before she refuses his call. “Not while I’m driving. I’ll call him when we get there.”

  Sabrina slams her hands down on the leather seat. “Isla, Gavin’s missing here. What if we’re going to the wrong place? I’m sorry, but whatever’s going on with your dad needs—”

  The phone rings a third time, and Sabrina charges for the touch-screen, accepting the call before Isla can reject it.

  Isla presses her middle finger against her lips in a way to say “Fuck you” and “Be quiet” at the same time.

  “Isla! Where are you?” Harry Gibson yells into the phone. I picture him with a red face, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “The attendance office just called. You ditched school.”

  “Don’t care.” She guns the engine.

  He groans. “Isla, I understand if you’re upset, but—” He sighs. “I don’t want to do this…but if you don’t come home right this minute, I’m grounding you for a month.”

  “A month is fair,” she snaps.

  “Two months, and I’m coming to get you right now.” There’s a loud, pain sound, like someone swallowing. “You’re with…her, aren’t you? I checked, she ditched school too. Isla, please don’t make me violate the restraining order.”

  Restraining order? I sit up straighter, trying to get Isla’s attention with my eyes. She keeps hers trained on the road.

  “Don’t try to come get me and you won’t violate anything.” Every word out of Isla’s mouth drips with angry venom. The car swerves with the direction of the conversation.

  Sabrina spins around in her seat and gives me questioning eyes. But I wear the same confused expression.

  “Fine. Honey, I’m going to sign us up for counseling. You can’t stay away from home forever, but I know you need time. All I ask is you stay with Becca tonight instead of Jan.” He takes a sharp breath. “You didn’t tell her, did you?”

  Isla meets my eyes in the rear-view, and I know he means me and not Becca. I dig my fingernails into the seat, anxious to know why they’re discussing me.

  “No, she doesn’t know.” Her throat sounds like it’s filled with phlegm. She clears it. “Yet.”

  I open my mouth to ask what the hell is going on, but Sabrina leaps into the space between the two front seats and thrusts her hand out, whacking Isla with her elbow. Isla’s hand slips from the wheel, spinning it in the process. Sabrina slithers into the backseat and clasps her hand over my mouth. Isla reacts quickly, regaining her composure and dodging other cars as they honk at us.

  “Isla, I really wish you’d let me handle it. You know why I can’t tell her yet.”

  My mind races, trying to figure out how I’m part of this. I reject a lot of theories, mostly because they’re terrifying. If Krystal and Harry had some sort of past that resulted in a restraining order…it either involved money. Or violence. Or knowing Krystal, sex.

  Isla bursts into tears. “Dad, not now.” Her hand reaches for the touch screen.

  Sabrina frantically shakes her head and mouths the word, “Gavin,” to Isla.

  She pulls her hand back to the wheel. “What—what can you tell me about Dennis Cunningham?”

  “Huh?” Harry pauses. “What made you think of him?”

  “I think he was over at my friend’s house last night. Is he local?”

  “He’s lived in New York City for years. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him recently. I’m still looking into managing some mainstream bands, and I’d love to get his backing again.”

  Isla taps her fingers on the wheel. “So he’s a huge producer, right? Like he’s written tons of songs?”

  “Nope, just the one,” Harry says.

  Isla clicks on her blinker and changes lanes. “Why didn’t he write anymore? Doesn’t
that make him a one-hit wonder?”

  “Don’t even think that! He’s brilliant. With that song he invented the fusion of pop and alternative rock that’s still used today. Made mega millions.”

  Isla asks a few more questions that gets us nowhere. “Thanks Dad. Gotta go.” She clicks off.

  I give her time to take a deep breath before I jump on her. “What’s this about a restraining order?”

  Her knuckles squeeze the wheel. “I was going to talk to you about it last night, but then this whole thing with Gavin came out of nowhere, and I decided we don’t need two people distracted, mentally.”

  “I’m willing to take the risk,” I snap.

  She lets out a strange, animalistic sound. “Moxie…he’s your dad too.”

  A quarry of rocks piles in my throat. “My dad?” The word sounds strange on my tongue, like it’s a foreign language I’ve never spoken before.

  Holy shit. My dad. The guy who abandoned me as soon as he laid eyes on me. The guy who’d made me dinner countless times when I slept over Isla’s house a few years ago, who walked ten paces behind us when we traipsed through the mall like we owned it, whose fingers flew over piano keys while I sang the lyrics at a whisper and Isla joined in on guitar. The guy who always seemed nice to me but never anything more than that.

  The guy who never told me who he was during all those opportunities.

  My dad.

  I sink into the seat, trying to process this, my temples pounding. I think back to the last time I met him. How he stared at me so strangely. Was he proud of me? Or just curious about who I was?

  “My dad told me everything last night,” Isla says and I flinch on the word dad. “How he got into a fight with my mom when she was pregnant with me. Cheated on her with Krystal. Claims it was a ‘fit of weakness.’“ Isla uses air quotes and snorts when she says it.

  My chest squeezes. I was the result of a fit of weakness.

  “Krystal got pregnant, and Dad paid her almost all his savings in a big out-of-court settlement to keep her quiet. He also agreed to give up custody rights of you.”

  Her words sting like a sharp knife in my chest…and my back. Everything I always thought was true has been confirmed. My dad did abandon me. Disappointment tears through my stomach. A small part of me had always hoped there was a better explanation, like he’d enlisted in the army to give us a better life but then died in combat and Krystal was still in denial. Or maybe he’d been convicted of a horrific crime and was rotting away in jail. Anything other than him choosing to leave my life for good.

  “What about the restraining order?” Sabrina asks, volleying her head between us.

  “Apparently when The Mermaid Lounge became successful a few years ago, your mom demanded more money for your medical bills. He gave it to her plus more for a college fund. And then I guess my dad took out a restraining order on her to get her to back off. But it backfired on him too, it meant he had to stay away from you.”

  I pressed my palm to my forehead. Did that mean he hadn’t been staying away?

  “Moxie?” Isla meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “What medical bills?”

  I shift in my seat uncomfortably. “Can I ask you something first?”

  She nods, taking an exit onto another highway and merging into light traffic.

  “When you said we were friends earlier today, was it because you felt like you had to be, now that we share DNA and all?” I hold my breath for the answer. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

  “No,” she says emphatically. She swipes at her eyes like she’s going to start crying. “I’ve been rethinking my stance on you ever since you let me play with you at Mermaid. I really did mean it when I told you I was sorry last night, and not because of this.”

  Her words lift me up, the buoy keeping me afloat. I don’t hesitate as I tell her about my premature birth, about the nickname, about my heart problems. Yesterday, I would never have trusted her with this info. Hell, two years ago, I wouldn’t have trusted her with this info.

  “I’m fine now though. The meds help.” I feel exposed, but in a good way. Like when I told Gavin the truth.

  We drive in silence for a few minutes before Isla lets out a strained laugh. “I just realized… my dad was the one who initially suggested we become friends back in second grade. So I sought you out anyway and you seemed nice.”

  My chest aches as an image comes to my mind of a younger Harry clapping wildly as Isla and I put on a kiddie-rock performance. I sang my heart out while Isla played guitar, and he had seemed so supportive. I remember going home that night, so excited to tell Krystal about my new friend. But I came home to find my seventy-five year old neighbor sprawled on the couch. I knew what that meant: the next few days would be babysitter hell while mom jetted off with her new temporary boyfriend. I made a decision that night to keep Isla a secret. If Krystal wouldn’t involve me in her life, I wouldn’t let her into mine.

  Isla snaps her fingers. “It makes so much sense now. He’d never let me play at your house—always wanted you over mine. And then when we fought, he begged me to make up with you. I was stubborn, though. It could have saved us a lot of heartache if I’d known we were related.”

  My head snaps up. “Wait. Why’d he tell you now?”

  “I don’t know. My guess is, seeing us perform together really got to him. Then when he saw us again last night, he knew he couldn’t wait until you turned eighteen and the restraining order ended.”

  As we stall during standstill traffic, Sabrina crawls back into the front seat. I ruminate the new info, unable to focus on one thread. Does knowing the second half of my history make me more complete? Or has the puzzle scattered into pieces that no longer fit together in this composite I’d created about myself?

  Present Day

  We spend the next half hour in silence until we reach Lockhart. Ivy curls around gothic buildings made of mismatched stone. They’re arranged in a semi-circle with a grassy quad filling the space between them where students sit on the grass and read or toss a football in a group. We circle around until we find parking behind the ornate buildings, where boxy modern dorms hide in the background.

  Sabrina blinks, eyes wide, and the place that should have been her home. She lets out a little whimper in mourning for the life she never could have had.

  Just as we’re pushing open our doors, Isla’s cell phone buzzes. “Hey, Becca!” she says too loud, clearly for our benefit.

  I shut the door and lean forward to hear better. Isla sets her phone to speaker and rests it in the center console.

  “You!” Becca screams into the phone. “Zack’s freaking out. He doesn’t know how to survive without you! Are you with Gavin? He’s not here either.” She finally takes a moment to breathe.

  Isla ignores all that. “Did you get a chance to read the documents?”

  “Ugh, yes. What I think it means is Sabrina’s dad drew up these legal papers in order to sue Dennis Cunningham over ownership of Breaking Free of Silence. But from the way the documents were left, it never went to court. And since Dennis never signed them, he still owns the rights legally.”

  “Does it say why my dad wanted to sue?” Sabrina asks.

  “Oh. Hi Sabrina,” Becca says. There’s a moment of silence as she continues to read. “No. Documents like these wouldn’t convey that information.” Becca gasps. “Oh, shit. Ms. Kennedy just spotted me. Gotta go.” She hangs up.

  I tap the seat in front of me. “Why would your dad sue for ownership if he didn’t help write it?”

  Sabrina shrugs. “Maybe he did.”

  “Maybe we need to get out of the car and find answers.” Isla pushes open her door and we all scramble out. She pops her trunk and grabs the VCR. “I think we should bring this just in case.”

  We set off for Lyman hall, trekking across the graveled parking lot toward one of the hulking stone buildings. My mind spins around the clues. An unsigned contract for joint ownership of a hugely successful song. A song Chuck and Jose
phine despise. In fact, they despise it so much they banned music from their children. A verbal threat. A dead guy named Omar Parks. A VCR. 90C. Unknown evidence. Sabrina’s parents fleeing like their butts were on fire. The question mark around what Gavin means by White Powder (one of two).

  And Gavin, missing.

  None of it seems to add up.

  I’m in such a daze, I careen right into a guy rushing toward another building. The smack whacks the wind out of my lungs. The guy scrambles out of the way and raises his hand in apology.

  I dust myself off and keep going, determined to keep my eyes peeled from now on. I can’t find Gavin if I have my head in the clouds.

  Gavin. Just thinking his name makes my chest ache.

  Fire-escapes cover one entire wall of Lyman Hall like a woven basket, taking fire safety a little too far. One extends from each and every room, creating a complicated maze of metal ladders. Students lounge on some of the landings, books balanced in their laps. A guy with a goatee stumbles over guitar chords as he serenades a girl next to him.

  Inside Lyman Hall, a bulletin board stretches along the back wall, the words “MEET AND GREET: TONIGHT” cut out of construction paper in bubble letters. Gray carpeting flecked with blue speckles leads our way toward the elevators.

  The elevator doors open and we squeeze inside. The squeal of hydraulics grates on my pounding skull. When the doors pop open, we come face to face with the illusive 90C. My stomach flip flops as Sabrina pounds her fist against the door.

  Collectively, our chests still. We’re banking on something being here, the key to everything, but what if it’s not?

  A boy with a crew cut and acne marks dotting his face answers the door. He smiles brightly at Isla, then Sabrina, then me, as if he’ll take whichever one of us steps toward him first. “You my chick-stalkers? The love shack is open, I’ve been waiting.” The guy opens the door wider, and I need to squint from the bright light emitting from it. Sparkles of gold blind my vision.