by Gail Nall
Stupid Shiver. She messed everything up. Who knows when I’ll have another chance to catch a ride. There’s no way I’ll make it to Nashville before Thursday now. I don’t even want to think about having to tell Jack it’s going to be a few more days.
I hike back toward the campground. Shiver’s a few steps ahead of me. I avoid looking at her and fix my eyes on the pine trees that line the sides of the road.
Shiver stops and turns around, hands on her hips. “So now you’ve wised up?”
“No. I ran out of time, thanks to you.” I move past her and keep walking.
“You’re a strange kid, you know that?” she says to my back.
I snort. “Kid. Like you’re way older than me.”
“I’m thirteen. You’re, what, ten?”
I turn and glare at her. I mean, I know I’m short and have this annoying baby face, but ten? That’s practically the same age as Bug. “I’m twelve.”
“Wouldn’t have guessed that. You’re kind of a midget. And you wear those braids all the time.”
I swivel around and walk as fast as I can. Like I’m going to explain my crazy Simba hair to Shiver. Kenzie can get away with making jokes about my braids, but that’s because she’s practically a sister. Shiver is anything but.
She trudges along behind me.
“What were you doing up there anyway?” I ask without turning.
“Buying candy bars. Is that a crime?”
I bite my lip to keep from being rude right back to her.
A truck slows down beside us. I’m really hoping it’s not that sweet old woman again, wondering where the police are.
Mom’s face sticks out the window. “Maya?”
“Hi.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in bed?”
“Oh . . .” How many lies am I going to have to make up today? “I felt better, so Shiver and I decided to go for a walk.”
Shiver gives me a sideways glance.
I send her ESP signals to please, please, please not give me away. Although she hates me, so it’s probably pointless.
“Oookay. I’m glad you feel better.” Mom looks at Shiver and smiles. “Your mom and I used to go for long walks together before we could drive.”
“Guess you didn’t have much else to do,” Shiver says.
Mom laughs. “Guess not. I have to go pick up Dad and Bug. See you girls back at camp.” She drives on down the road, past the campground. Even though I’ll probably get back first, I’m glad I left the note to Mom and Dad on my bed, and not somewhere they’d find it right away.
“Thanks,” I say to Shiver.
She shrugs. “Whatever.”
“Why’d you cover for me?”
“I don’t know. Next time I won’t bother, okay?” She frowns and plugs in her other earbud.
“Fine, be that way,” I say, even though I know she can’t hear me. I whip out my phone and text Kenzie as we walk.
I need a new plan.
Chapter 9
13 days until Dueling Duets auditions
The smiling yellow sunshine on Gert’s RV glares at me as we drive away the next morning.
“Isn’t this fun?” Mom says to Dad. “And just think, we’ll probably see them again in Cody.”
Dad nods enthusiastically. “Buckle up, girls. We have a long day of driving.”
I stare at my phone. I texted Jack to let him know plans had changed, and he hasn’t written back yet. Can texts get lost, like mail does? Maybe he never even got it. Maybe I should text him again. But what if he did? Then it would look weird if I texted him the same thing two times in a row. But if he did get it, why hasn’t he texted me back yet?
Ugh. Why are boys so difficult?
Bug breaks out a new book called Wildlife of Yellowstone. When Mom brought it back for Bug yesterday, Bug tried to give away one of her other five books. Mom told her to keep it since I’d brought ten thousand books.
Which is a total overestimate. There are probably only a hundred stuffed into my cubbyholes. Or maybe two hundred.
So while Bug reads, I open my notes app and update OMGH.
Operation Maya Goes Home (OMGH)
(In time for Dueling Duets.)
Countdown: T minus 13 days
How to Get Home to Audition with Jack and Win His Heart with My Voice and Stellar Personality:
1. Convince Mom and Dad this is the worst idea ever.
2. Bertha needs major repairs (tires don’t count, I guess).
3. K fakes lots of broken bones & needs me to spoon her soup. (Not believable.)
4. Walk. Phone mapping app says this will take only 253 hours. Which is like 101/2 days if I don’t sleep, eat, go to the bathroom, or stop at all. (I don’t even like Dad’s 2-mile hikes, so . . .)
5. Hitchhike! (Shiver. Ugh. Also, scary.)
6. ?
My phone dings. I flip it to silent and read Kenzie’s text. So glad you didn’t hitch. Brad told me about this kid from Memphis who did & no one ever saw him again.
So, yeah. No more hitchhiking. Although I’d never admit to Shiver that she was right.
Maybe I can catch a train or a bus? I write back.
No bus. Scary ppl.
Seriously, are there scary people on every form of transportation in this country? How much is train, you think?
IDK. Have $20 from allowance I can send you.
That won’t work. She’d have to send it to the mail forwarding service, and then Mom and Dad would see it and want to know what Kenzie sent me. Not to mention that it would take forever to get to us.
This coming-up-with-ideas thing is really hard.
About an hour later (after I pester Kenzie for more updates on the Twizzlers situation, grill her about whether I should text Jack again, and try to convince her to show up at the commercial’s filming), we stop at the WELCOME TO WYOMING sign for the required picture. The rest of the morning drags on. I listen to music, I sing until Mom gives me a Look, I text Kenzie, Bug quotes me weird facts about buffalo and mule deer, and Mom and Dad talk about their first visit to Yellowstone a million years ago.
When I look out the window, all I see is miles and miles of . . . nothing. Waving grass, hills, rocks, a few cattle. And these funny-looking antelope-like animals with horns. Pronghorns, according to Bug and her book.
Around noon, Dad pulls Bertha over to a “natural wonder” called Hell’s Half Acre. Which totally sounds like something Shiver would love.
Ugh, why am I thinking about Shiver?
“It looks completely abandoned,” Mom says.
We pour out of Bertha, blinking in the sun. This is the most depressing place I’ve ever seen. Weeds poke up here and there in the dirt where a building used to be. A falling-down chain-link fence separates the road and parking area from . . . whatever’s behind it.
And at a place called Hell’s Half Acre, I don’t think I want to know what’s behind the fence.
So of course, Bug races up and presses her face against it. “Wow! Come look at this.”
Dad joins her, and I finally decide that whatever’s over there can’t be too awful.
“Wow,” Dad says.
It is pretty neat. Below us, through the metal diamonds of the fence, are all these rock formations. Mostly tall, pointy spires, but some blob-looking rocks, and some arches. They’re striped in brown, tan, white, and red. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I’m not in the mood to admit I’m impressed.
While Bug tries to figure out how to get behind the fence so she can climb through the pointy rocks, I park myself on the dusty ground and rack my brain for OMGH ideas. My phone buzzes. Jack! His text reads, ok.
What does that mean?! Maybe it just means I need to come up with a new idea, fast. I’m still thinking as we pull into the Cody campground (Yeehaw Cowboy Times Campground—I am so not kidding) around sunset. And as I go to sleep that night. I dream about riding home on a pronghorn through a bunch of pointy striped rocks while Bug runs alongside me
and quotes statistics about pronghorn attacks.
So much for helpful dreams.
The next morning, I’m sitting in a chair outside with Mom and Bug while Dad empties the waste (eww) from Bertha. It’s early and quiet. The campground is way off on the far side of town, overlooking some mountains shrouded in white haze.
Mom’s face is scrunched up into that “I’m so stressed” look. She’s typing away furiously on the keyboard. It seems really unfair that she’s the only one making money to pay for our groceries and gas and campsite fees. If only she’d realize that me trying out for Dueling Duets could be the answer to everything. Except she and Dad have zero faith in me, so I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon.
Several other RVs are in the park, but no bright yellow one yet. Knowing I won’t see Shiver today puts me in a good mood. Or as good a mood as possible without having another plan for OMGH.
Wait . . .
If there are other RVs, then there are other people traveling all over the country. At least one of them has to be headed toward Tennessee.
Maybe they’d give a nice girl in Heidi braids and a purple cowboy hat a ride home.
I smile as I text Kenzie, who’s headed to the pool and promises to keep an eye on Jack. I decide not to let him know I’m on my way home until I’m actually on my way home this time. Now I just have to find an excuse to go around and talk to everyone until I find the right person. It would be a lot safer than hitchhiking. After all, Mom and Dad are always going on and on about how friendly other RVers are. And there’s no way I’d take a ride with people whose RV is all dirty or full of weird things that scream serial killer, like decapitated doll heads or petrified rodents in jars.
Once Dad finishes the waste dump (ugh), we take off to do touristy stuff. Dad’s way too enthusiastic about a bunch of old buildings lined up to resemble a fake Old West town. Bug finds some woman in a store (that sells a weird combination of saddles and paintings of wistful-looking cowboys) who talks to her for an hour about Yellowstone. I daydream about finding the perfect family to give me a ride home.
Bug’s practically skipping down the sidewalk as we walk to dinner that evening. “Did you know that thousands of bison live in Yellowstone? They used to be almost extinct. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Crazy,” I repeat as I read Kenzie’s Twizzlers report.
At pool today: Lacey was all giggly like 2 yr old. Jack kept looking at her with dopey smile.
My stomach churns.
“And there are two kinds of bears. Black bears and grizzlies. I hope we see both,” Bug goes on.
“From a safe distance,” Mom adds.
BTW, I found out something big, Kenzie texts.
What???? I type as I skirt around a bench on the sidewalk.
“Do we have bear spray?” Bug asks Mom and Dad. “And we need a whistle. And maybe some pots and pans to hit together. You’re supposed to make a lot of noise to scare bears away while you’re hiking.”
“We’ll get some spray,” Dad says. “And whistles.”
“I think we’ll leave the pots and pans in the RV,” Mom says.
Lacey’s def trying out for DD. No partner.
My stomach is practically down to my feet right now. I kinda guessed she wouldn’t let the opportunity pass her by, but hearing Kenzie confirm it is so not good.
Did she tell you?
Nope. She was telling J. Kinda hinting at the no partner thing.
Really, really, really not good.
Can you tell J how much I’ve been practicing the song? And that you know for sure I’ll be home real soon.
You got it. BTW, commercial filming is tomorrow. Will tell him am planning on career in movies & make him invite me to it.
You’re the best.
NO MORE TWIZZLERS!
I want to hug her through the phone. I miss her so badly it makes my throat close up just thinking about it.
“Here we are,” Dad says.
I look up from my phone. We’re standing in front of a large, old building. IRMA HOTEL is written across the top of the first story. We climb the steps of a huge covered porch and go inside.
“Is this where we’re eating?” I ask.
“Yup.” Dad rubs his stomach. “Chow time! Wrangle up those stomachs!”
“If he starts talking like a cowboy, I’m eating by myself,” I tell Mom.
“You’ll be mighty lonesome, pardner,” Mom says.
“I don’t know you people.” I lag behind them as they keep coming up with more and more ridiculous cowboy talk. Even Bug moves off to the side and pretends to be interested in a painting on the wall.
“How many?” the hostess asks.
“Round ’em up, we got four hungry dogies,” Dad says.
I want to die right next to the PLEASE WAIT TO BE SEATED sign. The hostess doesn’t even bat an eye. I guess lots of people’s dads come in and say stupid stuff like that.
“Look, there are Gert and Shiver.” Mom points across the restaurant.
No. No, no, no, no, no. If anyone can completely mess up OMGH—again—it’s Shiver.
Gert looks up and waves us over. “Join us. We can scoot that table over and make one big table.”
Dad and one of the waiters push the tables together, and before I can say anything, I’m stuck eating next to Shiver.
She eyes the steak that I order. “That’s a dead cow, you know. Shot up with antibiotics and hormones.”
“Adalie,” Gert says in a sharp voice. “That’s enough.”
Shiver/Adalie ignores her. “That’s before they stuffed him into a dirty pen with a hundred other cows and killed them all with no concern for their humanity.”
“Don’t you mean ‘cow-manity’?” Bug says to Shiver.
“What?” Shiver gives my sister a blank look.
“You said ‘humanity.’ But they’re cows. So it would be ‘cow-manity.’ ” Bug is dead serious.
Dad laughs, and Gert does too. Even Mom cracks a smile.
“It’s not funny,” Shiver says.
I totally agree, since I don’t feel like eating steak now. Stupid Shiver. Adalie. Whatever her name is.
Gert pats Shiver’s arm. “Lighten up, honey.”
Shiver jerks her arm away and stuffs her earbuds in.
At least she won’t talk to me if she’s listening to music. What has she got on there anyway? If you nickname yourself Shiver, you’re not listening to anything fun. It’s probably that clangy, noisy rock that Kenzie’s brother Brad listens to, with some tattooed guy shrieking about pain and destruction.
After dinner—which for me is just mashed potatoes and green beans, thanks to Shiver—Dad’s all excited about the pretend gunfight outside the hotel. Chairs are lined up in front of the porch. The whole street’s blocked off, and a bunch of fakey-looking wooden buildings the size of sheds are positioned here and there. I look around at all of it and wonder if Kenzie’s managed to get herself invited to the furniture store filming tomorrow.
Dad makes us sit in the front row. I end up stuck next to Shiver. Great. She’ll probably go off on how cowboys were mistreated or something completely ridiculous. I text Kenzie for an update.
Mom touches my arm. “Maya, it would mean a lot to your dad if you put your phone away for a while. Kenzie can wait.”
It takes all my self-control not to roll my eyes, but I stuff the phone into my pocket. I slouch in my chair, cross my arms, and try to think of a good excuse to go knocking on the doors of strangers’ RVs. Gert pulls Shiver’s earbuds out when the show begins.
It doesn’t take long for the fake gunshots to start ringing out. I glance down the row at Dad, who’s grinning his face off like he’s at Disney World. He looks so happy. It’s kind of cute in a way. He never looked like that when he worked at the insurance company back home. It makes my heart melt just a little bit, and that Worst Daughter in the World feeling creeps back into my brain. What if I win Dueling Duets and get a huge record deal and we have enough money for a
new house? Would Dad find another job? Will he be this happy?
I’ve just turned back to watch the show when there’s a thunk from somewhere on the other side of me, and I feel Shiver move.
“Gran? Help!” Shiver yells.
I whip around. Shiver’s huddled over something on the ground.
Gert.
I leap out of my chair as the people behind us stand and lean over to see what’s going on. The fake gunshots stop, and a couple of the actors jog over to us.
Gert’s lying on the ground, her eyes closed.
“Gran, Gran, Gran,” Shiver says as she shakes Gert’s arm.
“Someone call 911!” Dad yells as he cradles Gert’s head in his arms and Mom feels for her pulse.
One of the actor-cowboys pulls a phone from his jeans pocket and punches the buttons. He starts talking, phone in one hand and gun in the other.
Shiver’s rocking back and forth, still holding Gert’s arm. “What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she waking up?”
I grab Bug’s hand and squeeze. Please let Gert wake up. I’ll take back every mean thing I’ve ever thought about Shiver. Gert’s just lying there, her long white hair flowing out from under Dad’s arms.
“Does she have any medical problems?” Mom asks Shiver.
“I don’t know.” Shiver’s voice rises into a wail. Tears run down her cheeks, streaking black mascara everywhere. Her earbuds dangle, grazing Gert’s arm, which suddenly jerks.
“Gran?”
“Ad . . . a . . . lie?” Gert’s voice is faint.
“Gert, don’t move,” Mom says. “An ambulance is on its way.”
Gert pats Shiver’s hand and closes her eyes.
In no time flat, the ambulance pulls up next to the shed-building marked SALOON. A woman in a red old-timey dress tells the EMTs what happened. They try to ask Shiver questions, but she can’t answer them. I stand back with Bug, wishing there was something I could do.
“It looks like a stroke,” a tall, skinny EMT says. “We need to move.” They don’t waste any time loading Gert onto a stretcher and into the ambulance.
“Wait, I have to go with her!” Shiver reaches up to pull herself inside.
The skinny EMT holds a hand out. “It’s better if you follow,” he says. “We need the space to help her.”
