Out of Tune

by Gail Nall

  “But . . . you can barely walk.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.

  “I know that.” She lets out a frustrated sound and then props her chin in her hands. “I can walk, it just hurts a whole lot. If your sad little first aid kit had that bandage in it, I could probably make it.”

  “Then maybe we need . . .” I look all around, but all I see are trees and bushes and dirt. “We just need something that acts like a wrap, you know?” If we were near Bertha, there’d be tons of stuff I could use—a kitchen towel, one of Dad’s socks, a scarf. Bertha’s full of really useful things like that.

  “Like what?” Shiver pulls out her cross-stitch again and flattens it against her leg. “This is too small.”

  As she stuffs the fabric back into her bag, I remember her talking to Bug, right on Bug’s level. Looking out for me when she thought Remy was a weirdo. Keeping me from doing what I realize now were really stupid things, like hitchhiking or getting a ride with people I’d never even met before. Lying to the park ranger back at Lewis Lake. Trying to give me a pep talk when I was about to give up—at least, as peppy a pep talk as Shiver can give. Getting us onto the Adventure Seekers bus, and then thinking fast enough to keep us from getting found out. Giving me a hand up when I fell on that hill near the river.

  And then I know what I have to do.

  “Maybe . . .” I unzip my backpack, pushing aside the remaining food until I see what I’m looking for.

  My shimmery silver audition top.

  Chapter 26

  3 days until Dueling Duets auditions

  The silver threads in the shirt catch the light of the setting sun, and I heave a little sigh. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned, but it isn’t something that I need. And I can’t think about it for too long, or I’ll lose my nerve.

  “What is that?” Shiver’s eyes are practically popping out of her head.

  “Do you have scissors?”

  Shiver nods toward her backpack. I dig through it until I find them. When I pull them out, Shiver slides to the ground and picks up the shirt. She looks at it, then at me.

  “This thing is . . . shiny,” she says. “Why were you carrying it around?”

  I take a deep breath. “It’s my audition top, okay?” I look at it again, scissors in my hand.

  “What are you auditioning for, some kind of dance thing? This looks like one of those outfits people on that celebrity dancing show wear.”

  “Do you want your ankle wrapped or not? You better tell me fast before I change my mind.”

  “Yes, and hey, you made fun of my cross-stitch. The least you can do is tell me what show you’re trying out for.”

  Fine. At least I can stop hiding everything from her. “Dueling Duets. It’s a country music show. I’m a singer.” I look her right in the eye, daring her to laugh.

  She doesn’t. “You must want it pretty bad.”

  “It’s the only thing I want.” Well, maybe not the only thing. But it’s way, way, way up there.

  Shiver hands the shirt back. “So, what, were you going to tie it around my ankle? It doesn’t have sleeves.”

  “No.” I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this. I open the scissors, take a deep breath, and start cutting. Every snip feels as if I’m snipping apart my dream. But I’m not, not really. I can still audition for the show. I’ll borrow something from Kenzie to wear, and I still have my hat.

  Shiver doesn’t say anything. She just watches as I cut the shirt in a spiral pattern, making one long strip of shiny silver. When I’m done, I wrap it tightly around Shiver’s ankle. It looks funny, but it works.

  “Couldn’t you have picked a better color? Maybe black or, like, a navy blue? I stand out for miles in this,” Shiver says as she examines the cut-up shirt wrapped around her ankle.

  “That shirt was going to make the judges notice me before I even started singing,” I inform her.

  “Great. I’m country music fashionable.” Shiver tests it out, putting her weight on both feet. “It still hurts, but I think I can do it.”

  I grab a tree limb lying nearby. “Here, use this too, like a crutch. I’ll carry your backpack.” If we go now, maybe I can still make the bus.

  We start forward, through the nothingness toward where I hope the road is. I’m starting to wonder if this is how Bug feels on a regular basis—all confident and satisfied about figuring things out—when Shiver stops.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says. “Just . . . thank you, I guess.”

  It’s so weird to hear Shiver say thank you that I shrug and keep walking. Except there’s something I have to say too. “Look,” I say over my shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about Gert being in Cody. I should’ve figured that out sooner.” I turn around, where Shiver’s hobbling behind me. “But what did you mean about her being your only family? We were driving you to San Francisco to be with your mom.”

  Shiver doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at me. It’s like she’s too busy watching where she steps to talk to me. Or maybe she doesn’t want to talk about her mom.

  “Okay. Well, let’s just get there,” I say.

  By the time I spy the road, it’s almost dark. Cars pass, headlights gleaming, and I’ve never been so glad to see civilization in my whole life.

  And I’m maybe also a little proud of myself for getting here. I’m totally like Wilderness Girl. And a doctor, sort of. I can’t wait to tell Remy and Bug all about this. I wish Mom and Dad were here to see me. That little achy feeling twinges again when I think about them.

  Shiver and I walk along in the dirt and brush on the side of the road. It’s definitely dark, which means we aren’t exactly visible to all the cars going by. Which could be scary, but is also really helpful, since probably the whole world is looking for us by now.

  Every once in a while, I turn around to check on Shiver. She’s slow, but moving. Before I know it, we’re in town in town. I stop under a streetlight.

  “Holy potatoes. We made it. We actually got here.” I kind of can’t believe it. After all that planning, the epic bike ride, all the problems we ran into, we’re in Cody. I’ve pretty much memorized the directions to the bus stop, and it’s only a few blocks away.

  Shiver squints up at the street sign. “I have to go that way.” She points off to the left.

  “And the bus is that way.” I point to the right.

  “So I guess we split up.” She leans on her tree-limb crutch.

  “Hey, um, Shiver? Thanks for coming with me.” A day ago, those words would’ve felt all weird coming from my mouth.

  She gives me a half smile. “Sure. Thanks for coming with me.”

  That makes me laugh a little.

  “So . . . let me know how Gert’s doing, okay?”

  “And you text me when you get to Nashville,” she says.

  I turn to walk toward the bus, when I hear a cracking sound. Shiver’s still standing behind me, but her tree limb is broken in half and she’s gripping the light pole.

  She purses her lips as she checks out the two pieces of tree limb in her hands. “I don’t care. I’ve gotten this far, I’ll crawl to the hospital if I have to.”

  I pull out my phone and check the time. 7:50. If I help Shiver get to the hospital, I’ll definitely miss the bus. I’ll have come all this way for nothing.

  And then it’s like the sun pops out in the middle of the night. Not for nothing. Not if I help Shiver get to the hospital to see Gert before visiting hours are over. All this trouble will be worth something. It just won’t be something for me.

  And right then and there, smack in the middle of Cody, Wyoming, I know I want to sing so badly that I’ll find another way. Jack has a partner (ugh), so I won’t be letting him down if I don’t show up. I feel bad that I won’t see Kenzie, though. What Shiver said about Gert being her family is how I feel about Kenzie, even though we’re not related. When we left Nashville, it felt like my family was splitting in half. Now
that I’m not going back to stay with Kenzie, Bertha is my home. But Nashville and Kenzie also still feel like home. Is it possible to have two homes? I don’t know.

  But I do know how Mom and Dad will feel if I leave them to go to Nashville. And if I go now, Shiver will miss seeing her gran for the last time in who knows how long.

  I know exactly how it feels to miss seeing someone you really care about.

  And when I think of it that way—despite how much it hurts to give up Dueling Duets and postpone my dream—there really isn’t a choice. I got One Last Big Nashville Blast with Kenzie, so Shiver should have One Last Big Hospital Blast with Gert.

  “Lean on me,” I tell Shiver. “We’ll get to the hospital in time.”

  She blinks at me. “You’ll miss your bus.”

  “I don’t care about the bus. Now, come on or we won’t make it there before they close.”

  Shiver puts an arm around my shoulder. “I don’t get it.”

  I shrug, as best I can with half of Shiver’s weight leaning on my shoulders. “There’s nothing to get.”

  “Okay,” Shiver says in a slow voice.

  I know she wants me to explain why I chose the way I did, but I don’t know if I can. I mean, I don’t really get it myself. So instead, I change the subject.

  “It’s freezing out here again. This place is so weird.” I shift the backpacks hanging off my other shoulder. “I never thought I’d say this, but I can’t wait to be back in Bertha. At least it’s warm. And there’s a shower and a bed.” And Mom and Dad and Bug, but I don’t say that out loud.

  “I’d rather sleep out here and eat green beans straight out of the can than go home,” Shiver says in a low voice as we pass dark, empty office buildings. She’s got the collar of her hoodie pulled up over her mouth and nose.

  “Why don’t you want to go home?” I’m starting to breathe heavily, but at least now I can see the lights of the hospital straight ahead, through some trees. “I mean, since I’m totally giving up getting to Nashville, maybe you can tell me.”

  Shiver sighs. “You complain about how your parents dragged you out here so you could all have this big adventure together. My mom would never do that.”

  “Do what? Make you leave home?”

  “No,” she says. “That’s kind of hard when she doesn’t really care. I mean, yeah, she’s there. But that’s all. She barely pays any attention to me. And now all she can think about is her divorce from Stepdad Number Three. It’s not like she was in any hurry to get me home.”

  “Oh,” I say. And then wish I could think of something better to say. Mom and Dad sometimes pay way too much attention to me. I’ve always thought of it as annoying, but I guess I’d rather have that than what Shiver has.

  “I hate it,” she says. “I was hoping I could stay with Gran. Maybe go home with her once we’d finished our trip. But I guess I can’t do that now.”

  As I pull the freezing fingers of my free hand into my sweatshirt, an idea hits me. “Why can’t you? She’ll probably need someone to help her once she gets out of the rehab place.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. You think she’d want me around?”

  “Of course she would!” I say. “I bet she’s really sad because you had to cut your vacation short. And I mean, all you can do is ask, right? That won’t hurt anything.”

  Shiver smiles in the streetlight glow. She’s not Kenzie, but she’s stood by me all the way up here. She’s almost like . . . a friend.

  “You know, Maya, you’re not so bad.” She’s quiet for a moment as we round a bend in the road.

  “You’re not so bad either.”

  “By the way, it’s Mozart. What I listen to all the time. So I get your thing about music.”

  “Mozart? Seriously?”

  She nods.

  “Huh.” And then I have this image of sharing music with Shiver, which is just weird.

  Shiver starts to say something else, but stops short as we get to the parking lot in front of the hospital.

  Where flashing red and blue lights glint off the hospital building and the parked cars.

  Chapter 27

  3 days until Dueling Duets auditions

  “I guess they figured out that we might come here,” I say as we stand at the edge of the parking lot.

  “But I need to see Gran.” There’s a twinge of panic in Shiver’s voice.

  “It’s not eight o’clock yet. Let’s go.” I shift her arm and practically pull her across the lot, between the cars parked here and there.

  “We can’t get to the door without being seen,” she says.

  “That doesn’t matter. No way have you come this far for them to not let you visit her.” I steer her straight toward the hospital entrance and the police cars.

  We’re maybe halfway there when someone shouts, “Is that them?” A spotlight swings around, completely blinding me. Then it switches off and a whole bunch of people run toward us. Before I can figure out what’s going on, there are blankets around Shiver’s and my shoulders, someone’s pushing a bottle of water into my hands, and Shiver’s being carried off toward the hospital entrance.

  “Wait!” I yell. I grip the blanket and run through the police officers and hospital employees. I haven’t seen Mom or Dad or anyone I recognize yet, but first I have to make sure something goes the way we planned.

  I reach the group around Shiver and tug the arm of the paramedic carrying her. “WAIT!” My voice carries over the crowd, and they stop. “It’s just a sprained ankle. She’s okay. Or she will be once she sees her gran. Her name is Gert . . .” I look to Shiver.

  “Gertrude Ammons,” Shiver says.

  “Shiver has to see her, now, okay? It’s the whole reason we’re here.”

  “We need to get her checked out first, young lady,” the paramedic says.

  “No, she’s fine! Visiting hours are over at eight, and she—”

  A police officer cuts me off. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she sees her grandmother. After she gets checked out.”

  Shiver smiles, and I take a step back. “Okay.” I wave as her whole entourage carries her into the hospital.

  “Maya!”

  I turn around to see a truck pulling up. Mom and Dad jump out and run toward me, with Bug and Remy and Remy’s parents in another car, right behind them.

  “Maya!” Mom nearly lifts me off the ground in a bone-breaking hug. “Why? How? Never mind.” She squishes me in a hug again. And when she’s done, Dad takes over.

  “Why are you covered in mud?” I ask him as best I can as my lungs are being squashed. “And aren’t you supposed to be on an overnight hike?”

  “I fell down a muddy hill,” he says. “And I was on a hike, till a ranger showed up and told me what was happening.”

  Dad finally lets me go, and Bug grabs me next. “You made it!” she says. “I knew you could do it.”

  “It would’ve been better with you,” I tell her. And I mean it, one hundred percent. “And I didn’t make it, really. Not to the bus anyway. But at least Shiver gets to see her gran. How did the police know we’d come to the hospital?”

  “They didn’t, for sure,” Dad says. “But when Bug told us that Shiver went with you, we thought she might come here. So they sent officers to the bus station and to the hospital. We were waiting at the bus station when they called us to say you were here.” Dad rubs his eyes. “I’m just so glad you’re okay, Maya Mae.” He hugs me again.

  Remy and his parents are hanging back. He grins at me and I smile over Dad’s shoulder.

  “Maya, what were you thinking?” Mom says as soon as Dad releases me. She puts her hands on her hips, looking at me all stern. Then she hugs me a third time. “You could’ve been run over by a car, or a herd of buffalo, or attacked by a bear, or . . . or . . . or . . .”

  “I just wanted to get home for the audition,” I say in a small voice.

  “That doesn’t make it okay,” Mom says.

  “I know. I’m sorry I made you worry. Y�
�all got your dream, and I guess I wanted mine, too. And I missed Kenzie, a lot. I thought Dueling Duets was my only chance. And when I won, you could all come home. Then everything would be normal again.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t take you more seriously, Maya Mae,” Dad says, his voice breaking just a little. “I thought maybe you’d get used to our little adventure, and come to think of it as a new normal. And that you understood that your dream isn’t dead—just waiting until you grow up.”

  I swallow the knot in my throat and nod. A new normal. I don’t know about that, but I do know that Mom and Dad wouldn’t be happy in a house back in Nashville. Bug either. I’m not really sure what home is now, but I think it has to be wherever my family is. And if Kenzie is my family too, then maybe I really can have two homes, at least in my heart.

  I guess my dream has to wait. Which makes me want to cry, right here in the parking lot, even though I did willingly give up Dueling Duets to help Shiver.

  “I was worried about Mom having all the responsibility for making money,” I add. “You always look really stressed out when you’re on your computer.”

  “That’s because it’s a stressful job, honey. Not because I have to worry about making enough money. We’re on a budget, yes, but that’s because these RVs can have all kinds of maintenance issues. We have to keep up a good savings account for the just-in-case,” Mom says.

  “Oh.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “You know, if you’d told us what you were planning, we could’ve let you in on a surprise a little early,” Dad says.

  “Surprise?” I look back and forth between my parents.

  Mom clears her throat. “I looked up this show you were so bent on trying out for, and it turns out that you can send in a video audition. So—”

  “We filmed you singing and are going to send it in!” Dad’s practically bursting. “And if they like it, they’ll invite you to the last set of auditions in Los Angeles.”