Disconnected (Luke Hemmings AU)

Chapter 7

Three days later we were in Alabama. I hadn't seen high or low of Luke in all that time, and I was beginning to become obsessed with the idea that perhaps he and his mom might drop off the tour at some point. I would have no idea how to get in touch with him. I didn't even know his last name. And I was dying to ask him what was up between his mom and my dad.

It was plainly obvious to me that nothing was not the right answer.

It occurred to me that since we had boarded the bus nearly two weeks ago, I had not opened my violin case even once. It was late afternoon, and I went out to the tour bus in the parking lot to fetch it. Alabama was hot. Perhaps the only thing I learned about traveling across the United States so far on our trip was that other cities get much more humid than Los Angeles.

Moose was on duty watching the bus.

"You actually play that things?" he remarked upon seeing my case.

"Yup," I said. As I was crossing the parking lot on the way back into the hotel, I saw a gold Saturn parked in the second row and my heart stopped. It had Michigan plates. That meant that Luke and his mother were nearby, probably staying at the same hotel as us. I walked a little closer and noticed that the entire back seat of their small car was crammed with luggage, blankets, dirty clothes, and boxes of crackers.

I'm no detective, but if I had to guess, I would say that Luke and his mom were living out of the back of that Saturn. The mystery just continued in its complication. Why would anyone live out of a car just to follow a band around all summer.

I had made my way almost flawlessly through La primavera (spring), the first of the four movements, and was stumbling through L'estate (summer) when suddenly the door to my room burst open.

Jill, red-faced, was fuming. "Caitlyn is very sick. Could you please practice somewhere else?"

She slammed the door so hard that thee cheesy hotel paintings of beach-scapes on the walls shook. I sat down on the bed and put my violin back in its case.

Thanks a lot, Mom, I thought to myself. See what you've left me with?

Practice somewhere else, like where? I couldn't exactly go practice the violin in the parking lot or in the locker room of the indoor pool. It was suddenly striking me as ridiculous that I had ever convinced myself that I would be able to finish my summer reading list of master this composition while on the road. How had I ever thought I would accomplish anything during eight weeks of shuffling from hotel to hotel? I thought briefly about sending Mr. Ferris an email from the hotel business center to let him know there was no way I was going to be ready in September and that he should have the girl in second seat start practicing.

Right then I formulated a plan so sneaky that I had to dare myself to go through with it. I was going to take the bus into the city and see downtown Huntsville by myself. If I could't have the summer I had been promised then at least I would make the most of it.

No one noticed when I left the hotel suite. Caitlyn was legitimately sick and Jill was talking to the doctor who had been brought in to examine her. Herschel, the yogi, was cross-legged with his eyes closed as I passed through the living room and didn't even stir when I opened the door. I passed Brice in the hotel lobby, where he was flirting with the chesty blonde concierge.

"Where are you headed, Allison?" he asked.

"Going into town," I informed him casually. 

My afternoon in Huntsville was perhaps the most relaxing couple of hours I had spent since losing my mom. I bought a street map of the city at the dime store and found the Huntsville Museum of Art. I ate  sandwich and drank a strawberry smoothie on a park bench, thinking of Katy, as sharing sandwiches at the Farmer's Market was one of our traditions. I bought a Talladega Speedway postcard, which I initially planned to send to Katy, but then began writing to my grandparents in Minnesota.