"Have you seen my phone?"

I pull back the comforter on the hotel bed and search among the sheets and pillows, even though I've checked here and inspected every pocket and compartment of my bag twice. I could have sworn I left my phone charging on the table between the two beds before I went into the bathroom to shower and get ready for the day, but it isn't there now.

"Elton texted me while I was at the grocery store," Mom says, not answering my question. She watches on as my frantic search shifts to opening drawers and peering under the beds. "He said to tell you someone named Violet answered your message on Instagram and that he can send me a screenshot of what she wrote, if you want to read it or have him reply."

"Why would he send you the screenshot instead of texting it to me?" The words are already past my lips when it dawns on me why Elton sent this message through Mom. My social media ban was supposed to have been underway the moment she and I departed LAX. I'd assumed it was a rule only Mom knew about, since it had come from her, but she and Elton must be in on the ban together.

"He isn't sending you the screenshot because you aren't supposed to be using social media," Mom replies, confirming my suspicion. "It seems you were last night, though, since that's when the timestamp on your note to Violet was from."

Wonderful. When I gave Elton access to my social accounts to manage them while I'm away, I didn't expect his first action to be snitching on me. He could have left out the part about when I sent Violet the message and let Mom believe it was before we left L.A., but no. He's full on throwing me under the bus. The angry text I wish I could send him is already writing itself in my head when I notice the top of my phone case peeking out from the side pocket of Mom's purse.

I bite back a sigh. "How long are you taking my phone for?"

"Until we're back in L.A."

I'm entirely cut off from the world for the summer. Fantastic.

"How will I keep in touch with Sawyer or any of my other friends while we're here?" I know why she wants me to stay off social media, but isolating me from my friends and my band isn't fair.

"I can send messages for you so Sawyer and your friends know how you're doing."

"Please say you're joking." Mom might be cool most of the time, but what seventeen-year-old sends texts to friends through their parent?

Her shrug is too nonchalant for my liking. "Pretend it's the nineties when most teens didn't have a cell phone," she suggests. "We managed."

"What about books or music? Those are on my phone."

"I packed your Kindle, and I'm sure there are bookstores and libraries we can visit in town. There's always the radio for music."

"This is too much," I mutter. I still can't believe my own manager ratted me out for thanking a fan and that it led to this. No good deed goes unpunished.

"Ready to go?" Mom chirps. "We shouldn't let the groceries sit in the Jeep for too long." Her cheerful tone makes it seem like our entire exchange didn't happen.

"Yeah." There's zero enthusiasm in my voice. Between losing my phone privileges and not getting to go on the grocery run this morning, today is not off to a good start. Not that I fault Mom for deciding to go to the store on her own after picking up the keys to our cottage, since someone needed to stay with Alfie in the hotel room. The last few hours just haven't been the retreat from Hollywood life I envisioned.

If Mom notices my tone, she doesn't let on. She brought the suitcases down to the Jeep after getting back from the store, so all that's left for me to grab is my bag. Mom opens the door and marches ahead of me out of the hotel room and down the hall to the elevator, holding Alfie's leash in her hand.

We make it from the hotel to the Jeep unnoticed, or at least I do. Alfie, on the other hand, finds himself a fan club the second we hit the parking lot. First it's a couple with their toddler who stop to gush over him, with Alfie and the little girl forming an instant mutual admiration society. They're joined a minute later by two women out for a walk around the marina who ask if they can say hi to our dog. Alfie is in his element as the star of the parking lot, soaking in all of the attention.

Mom does the talking while I hang back, hiding behind my oversized sunglasses. I offer the well-meaning strangers a nod and a smile. No one gives me a second glance, so I begin to relax.

Going unnoticed isn't surprising since I don't look how I do on stage or in magazine and tabloid photos right now. I left my colorful wigs at home on a shelf in my closet, and my natural hair is wound up in a topknot. My worn jean shorts, baby blue T-shirt, and flip-flops are nondescript and the opposite of the trendier and flashier styles I wear on stage or when in public as Cayden Indigo. Here, over two-thousand miles away from everything, I'm a regular teenage girl on vacation who's exploring the great northern outdoors with her mother.

If I play the part for long enough, maybe I can start to let go of what brought me here. It would be nice to forget.

The women, the couple, and the toddler move on after a couple more ear scratches and pats on the head for Alfie. He's still wagging his tail when I open the passenger-side door of the Jeep and pick him up to put him in the vehicle. Mom slides into the driver's seat, and then changes her mind and gets out again.

"Come out here for a second," she requests.

I pick Alfie up again and oblige. Mom points at Lake Superior, and I look out in that direction, holding Alfie in my arms.

"What is that?" I ask. It looks like a rock formation, or maybe a large island.

"That's the Sleeping Giant," she answers.

Now that I'm studying it, I see the resemblance to someone lying on their back on the surface of the water. Mom tells me there's an Ojibway legend she learned about the Sleeping Giant during her last visit here when I was a baby, and she promises to look it up for me later today.

There's no more talk of my phone privileges or what led to having them revoked during the drive to the cottage. Mom connects her phone and chooses a playlist for music, and I sit back and take in the scenery while Alfie sticks his head out the open window. I can gaze out at the world passing by for hours, since it's something I've become used to doing on the bus while touring. Sometimes I get song ideas, and sometimes it's almost like a form of meditation.

We've been driving for about forty minutes when the GPS tells us to turn left just up ahead onto East Loon Road. Mom slows the Jeep and signals to turn. We pass by a sign advertising an amethyst mine, and then we cross railway tracks and follow the GPS instructions to keep right onto Bass Lake Road.

The road we turn onto is unpaved and narrower than the one we left, and it's lined on either side by a thick wall of trees. There are breaks in the foliage up ahead, and as we drive by I discover these are driveways leading to lakeside cottages. We creep down the road for a couple more turns, and then Mom slows to examine a driveway.

"I think this is it," she says.

The cottage we drive up to is, by all appearances, a full-sized house. The exterior is comprised of stucco and siding, and it's not at all the tiny log cabin my mind had conjured up. Mom parks the Jeep at the end of the driveway and we get out of the vehicle.

Alfie's nose is immediately in action, sniffing everything around him, as Mom walks up to the cottage and unlocks the door. My dog is hyper-focused on exploring every tree and rock in sight and not paying attention to me trying to steer him toward the cottage, so I scoop him up and follow Mom inside.

The interior of the cottage reveals the comforts of a house, including a kitchen equipped with a modern fridge, stove, and microwave, a bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, and sink, and two bedrooms that each house a comfortable-looking bed, dresser, and closet. The living room contains an overstuffed sofa, loveseat, and ottoman. A wood stove lines one of the walls, and a large bay window with a cushioned window seat looks out over the lake. The dark blue water appears calm and sparkles in the late-morning sunshine.

I help Mom bring our suitcases and groceries inside. Alfie wanders off to explore the rooms while we put the food away, but it isn't long before he returns and plants himself in front of the door. He gives us a pleading look and huffs at us a couple of times until I laugh and pick up his leash.

"I'm going to take Alfie for a walk," I tell Mom. Alfie's ears prick up and he gets to his feet upon hearing his favorite word.

"Have fun." She gives both of us a wave before returning to the groceries.

I pause, waiting for her to tell me not to wander too far, or to stay on the lookout and keep safe, but no warning comes. Then I remember where we are. This place is in the middle of the forest off of a dirt road. There's a good chance I won't even pass by another human on our walk.

Sure enough, the road is deserted as Alfie and I make our way down it. The only sounds apart from Alfie sniffing are the breeze rustling tree branches and leaves, along with birds and crickets. There are no emergency vehicle sirens, motorcycles, honking horns, or helicopters circling, which is the everyday din I'm accustomed to from back home.

I let Alfie set the pace, which means we stop every few feet for him to sniff out his new surroundings. We eventually stumble across a narrow creek on the side of the road. Some of the brush beside it has either been cleared or flattened by foot traffic over time, probably by others with cottages on the lake, so I lead Alfie along the side of the bank.

I peer into the creek while Alfie gets acquainted with the wildflowers and grass. Water striders skip across the surface, and a tiny toad hops by. I watch the water striders swim and the creek water trickle downstream for another minute or two, and then I try to lead Alfie back to the road. We've taken only a couple of steps when a distinct crackling noise comes from the brush beside the creek. It's followed by the rustling of leaves, and then more crackling.

It hadn't occurred to me before now to think about what wildlife might be out here, but I'm guessing bears and deer call this area home. I pick up the pace in case Alfie and I are in the path of something much larger than a chipmunk, bird, or toad. The rustling and crackling continue and are joined by footsteps. Perhaps it's another person out walking and I was spooked for no reason.

This thought only calms me for a few seconds. Instead of more footsteps, what I hear next is the all-too-familiar whir and click of a camera.