Songs for a Teenage Nomad

By Kim Culbertson

"So engrossing, so transporting, so moving, I didn't want it to end! A beautiful, lyrical read—I loved every last word of it!"

—Alyson Noël, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of The Immortals series

What is the soundtrack of your life?

After living in twelve places in eight years, Calle Smith finds herself in Andreas Bay, California, at the start of ninth grade. Another new home, another new school…Calle knows better than to put down roots. Her song journal keeps her moving to her own soundtrack, bouncing through a world best kept at a distance.

Yet before she knows it, friends creep in—as does an unlikely boy with a secret. Calle is torn over what may be her first chance at love. With all that she's hiding and all that she wants, can she find something lasting beyond music? And will she ever discover why she and her mother have been running in the first place?

"Songs for a Teenage Nomad will send you searching for songs with meaning for the major events of your own life."

—Cindy Hudson, author of Book by Book: The Complete Guide to Creating Mother-Daughter Book Clubs.

"The best kind of song takes you on a roller coaster ride of emotions. It makes you think. You find yourself humming and pondering it for days. Songs for a Teenage Nomad does the book version of this. It's an unforgettable story that music lovers in particular will appreciate, but every teenager trying to find their place in the world should read."

—Stephanie Kuehnert, author of I Wanna Be Your Joey Ramoneand Ballads of Suburbia

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sourcebooks
• Release date: Sep 1, 2010
• ISBN: 9781402245473

Kim Culbertson

Kim Culbertson has taught high school English, creative writing and drama for over ten years in both public and private schools and sees her writing as an extension of her teaching. She lives in the Northern California foothills with her husband and daughter, where she loves to drink coffee and look at the clouds.

Book preview

Copyright

Copyright © 2007, 2010 by Kim Culbertson

Cover and internal design © 2010 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

Cover design by Studio Gearbox/studiogearbox.com

Cover images © Mark Jurkovic/First Light/Corbis; spxChrome/iStockPhoto.com; artplay711/iStockPhoto.com

Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

Mr. Tambourine Man by Bob Dylan. Copyright © 1964 by Warner Bros. Inc. Copyright renewed 1992 Special Rider Music. All rights reserved. International copyright secured. Reprinted by permission.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Published by Sourcebooks Fire, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

[phone]

Fax: [phone]

teenfire.sourcebooks.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Culbertson, Kim A.

Songs for a teenage nomad / by Kim Culbertson.—1st ed.

p. cm.

Summary: Having lived in twelve places in eight years, fourteen-year-old Calle Smith knows better than to put down roots, storing memories in a song journal while she keeps the world at a distance, but friends—even a boyfriend—are there to help when she learns why her mother has always been on the run.

[1. Moving, Household—Fiction. 2. Mothers and daughters—Fiction. 3. Memory—Fiction. 4. High schools—Fiction. 5. Schools—Fiction. 6. Fathers and daughters—Fiction. 7. Family life—California—Fiction. 8. California—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.C8945Son 2010

[Fic]—dc22

2010014381

Table of Contents

Front Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Keep Your Own Song Journal

About the Author

Back Cover

for peter

Prologue

…Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me. In the jingle jangle morning, I’ll come followin’ you…

—Bob Dylan

Inside my dreams sits a song, way back in the shadows. It calls to me, and I wait to know it in the daylight, wanting to pull it like taffy from the haunts of my mind. Somehow, my memories begin with this song. I can’t seem to put an image to it; it’s a memory blurred and swirling, with no shape…

Chapter 1

Get Out the Map

…the air smelling like honeysuckle, I dangle my arm from the passenger window, aware only of the honeysuckle air, Indigo Girls on a scratchy radio, and a white sun. And that everything we own has been packed into the back of a battered orange moving van…again…

My dad named me Calle after a cat he had in college that ran away. He really loved that cat. I always thought that was funny since he was the one who ran away from me…and my mom.

Calle? With just the e at the end? Not C-A-L-L-I-E? the counselor asks.

Just an ‘e.’ It’s how he spelled the cat’s name. The Smith part’s easy, though.

Mr. Hyatt, the counselor, shifts in his seat and scribbles something on a yellow legal pad. He has on a Mickey Mouse tie and red shoes. Vans. I’ve seen the uniform before. Mickey tie because he has to wear a tie but doesn’t want students to think he’s stuffy. Vans because they’re Vans. The nameplate on his desk says Hyatt Way, like a street sign.

I watch him write, making sure I don’t say more than I should. I always give away too much information, and sometimes it gets me in trouble. My mother once said I inherited this from my father. I don’t remember him, have never even seen his picture. I take her word for it. And don’t ask questions about him. It just makes her mad.

But the talking thing. I’m working on it. I’ve always admired the type of kid who can sit in silences and not need to fill them. There is one of those silences now.

Your mom is remarried? He flips through the manila folder with my name written in black marker on the tab.

Yeah. Rob.

Rob, he repeats, over-rounding the letters. Raawwbb. Annoying.

He works in computers and stuff. Actually, I have no idea what Rob does for a living, but I figure he probably has a computer wherever he works. He married my mom a month ago in San Diego where we used to live. She’d known him only four months. Now we live here. Andreas Bay, a snag in the Northern California coastline. The only thing I know is that he drives a Ford like all the others and makes a bunch of promises like all the others.

How’d you guys end up in Andreas Bay? Mr. Hyatt looks up from my folder, his pen poised.

Same way we find every town. My mom tosses a penny onto a map of California, and we go wherever it lands. He nods and pretends this isn’t strange. Usually that story gets at least a raised eyebrow.

He finishes writing, caps his pen, and pushes my new schedule across the desk. You like to write? He points at the journal in my lap, with its faded purple velvet cover that looks like corduroy pants.

I instinctively clasp a hand over the cover. It’s my song journal.

Song journal?

Last year, I started writing down memories I get from songs. I hear one, mostly older songs, and I write down the memory it brings. Like glimpses of my life as I remember it. Snapshots. His nod is directed over my shoulder. A black-haired girl in a Betty Boop T-shirt and skinny jeans hovers by the door. I shrug. It’s just something I do.

Cool. Sounds really cool. Trying too hard.

My mom’s not the type to keep photo books. So I sort of have to keep my own version.

I don’t tell him I’m hunting for the Tambourine Man who plagues my dreams.

***

You’re sure you don’t want a nicer shirt to wear?

In the mirror, I look at my mother, perched on the side of the tub, holding a coffee mug the size of her head. Her dark hair is wet from the shower and combed back away from her face.

I spit toothpaste into the sink. I like what I’m wearing, I say for the third time. Swirling water around my mouth, I stare at my reflection. Faded blue T-shirt, jeans, brown eyes, shoulder-length brown hair. I look the same as I always do. A blurry, ordinary version of the beauty sitting behind me.

People say I look like her but it’s in an out-of-the-corner-of-your-eye sort of way. We both have dark hair and eyes, but her genes lined up in the right order; her dark hair thick, her eyes wide. Her angles drawn straight, her limbs long. My genes used some sort of splatter method for me, with everything not quite in the right spot. People notice my mom no matter what she’s doing. If I wanted to be noticed, which I usually don’t, I’d have to hire a band and some fireworks.

First days are so critical, she continues, sipping out of her trough.

I catch her eye in the mirror. I think I know something about first days.

This shuts her up. For about one second.

You’ll be fine, she says. It’s like riding a bike.

What is?

First days.

I roll my eyes. My mother has a tendency to launch into speeches that start sounding like the bad television she watches. I say nothing. I don’t want to encourage her.

The school is beautiful, she says, trying a different tack.

I nod, leaning in to inspect what looks like it might be a pimple on my left cheekbone. Ocean view. Not bad.

You’ll really like it here. She tightens the sash of her yellow terry robe with her free hand. It’s a really nice town. Small, independently owned stores. A real community.

You’ve been reading way too many billboards for subdivisions off the freeway, I say.

She frowns into her coffee. I just think it’s really cute. Rob loves it here.

Rob sits in an office all day. He eats boring for breakfast.

Calle… I can see her start to falter, the tears just around the corners of her large eyes.

I back off.

It’s great, I say, and she smiles over her coffee. Cute. Though I wonder how cute it will be when she realizes that she’s not a tourist and that she actually lives here.

I take a last look in the mirror before walking into the hallway for my backpack. She follows me out, her bare feet slapping against the ceramic tiles. You’re sure you don’t want to borrow my red shirt with the Buddha? The cute one with three-quarter-length sleeves?

I’m sure, I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and trying not to roll my eyes. Two years ago in seventh grade, she convinced me to wear a green dress the first day. I spent the next four months as Gumby. No thanks.

She gives up. Okay, sweetie. She leans over to give me a peck on the cheek, the one that’s not getting a pimple. Good luck on your first day!

I open the door and smile back at her. She looks genuinely hopeful for me, the way she always does when we come to a new place. She even packed me a lunch.

Thanks, I say, holding up the brown sack. Giving a little wave, I pull the front door closed behind me.

Outside, drowning out the sound of gulls, I pull on my headphones—Jack Johnson’s guitar soothing the frenzy of nerves in my gut—and begin the eight-block walk to school, buoyed by the cool sea air. I take in the green hills and the small, flat-roofed houses, and spot a flash of ocean as I round the last corner toward the school. It’s actually one of the more beautiful places we’ve landed, and I sigh, wondering how long I’ll get to have this view.

Chapter 2

Small Town

…my mother turns the radio up because she has always been in love with John Cougar Mellencamp, insists on the Cougar part of his name, even if the singer has dropped it. We sprawl on the sloping lawn of the park, my mother letting her lunch break run way long. Light glints off her silver-rimmed sunglasses as she hands me half a tuna sandwich with extra pickles…

My new school smells like pickles, salty, and clogged with a sea of faces that all look the same. The campus stands on a low hill facing the ocean. Across the road from the main office where I babbled to Mickey Mouse Tie, there’s a small strip of buildings: a café, a hair salon, a movie rental place, and a doctor’s office whose large brick walls keep the students away from the coast.

I watch the students clumped around me in their between-classes packs. I stay close to a row of outside lockers, wedging myself between the bathrooms and the library building. I want a good view of the quad without being too much out in the open. Even here, I can feel people eye me. The new girl. No matter how many times I’ve done this, my stomach is always full of bees. Newness is nothing like riding a bike. Your body has no memory of it, and it doesn’t end with a fun ride.

My eyes fall on a group of girls in short skirts who are laughing with some boys. A zipper-thin girl with a thick blond ponytail has her arm draped casually around a dark-haired boy in a blue and green football jersey. Popular. I look away. I realized by third grade I would never be one of those girls. I’m not tiny or bouncy. I’m cursed with big bones and one-toned brown hair that refuses to fall the way it should. Not like their hair, lightened, glossy, and smelling of flowers and fruit. Even when I buy special shampoo, my hair smells like hair.

And fashion. Not a chance. I have a midriff that doesn’t want to break dress-code rules and no money to finance a wardrobe worthy of notice. So I wear my standard uniform of jeans and a T-shirt, with a sweatshirt if it’s cold out. I have an old gray sweatshirt with holes around the cuffs that I can wear and wear and never get sick of.

But I don’t hate those girls with their color-coded outfits, with their rules and gossip and fashion-magazine group quizzes: Is He Cheating?! They invent complicated lives because their lives aren’t that complicated. I prefer my holes-in-the-cuffs sweatshirt.

The bell rings for third period. Damn. I spaced out trying to disappear. I look around me. The sea of faces has rinsed into the surrounding classrooms like water down a drain, and I am left alone with a warm sun and no idea where I’m supposed to be. I look at my schedule and then walk all the way around the squat, box-like 400 building twice, looking for Room 406, Freshman English. But all the rooms are numbered in random order, with 405 next to 410 and then 407. No 406.

You lost?

A voice from behind startles me. I turn. The boy is skinny and smooth-skinned. He wears black jeans and a black shirt that says in bold white lettering, pissing off the planet one person at a time. He points at my schedule. Do you need help?

Room 406. My voice sounds high in the quiet air. This is the fastest anyone has ever spoken to me at a new school. At Hamilton Middle in Manteca, no one said a word to me the whole first week. A personal record. Who numbers these stupid rooms?

Monkeys. Room 406? He doesn’t have a backpack or any books. The Cell. Follow me. I have that class too. I’m Drew, by the way.

Calle. I follow him down a hallway into the center of the building. You’re a freshman? He seems way older and walks like he’s been here awhile.

Not really. He turns and smiles a mouth full of straight white teeth. Orthodontically straight. I flunked Freshman English last year. Repeat offender.

Oh.

He pushes open the door to 406. The windowless room is pasted floor to ceiling with movie posters. Jennifer Lopez’s glossy face from The Cell provides a centerpiece.

Mr. Billings. A youngish man in a tie at the front of the room looks up from a roll sheet. Nice of you to join us.

I was helping the new girl find your room. Drew glances around. I like what you’ve done with the place.

The teacher tries not to smile. Thanks, he says.

Aware of the eyes locked on me from the various round tables in the room, I shift my weight and look around. Blond Ponytail Girl from earlier sits at a nearby table, twirling a lock of her hair around and around her finger while smiling coyly at the dark-haired boy next to her. The boy catches my eye, smiles slightly, and then focuses on Blond Girl. My stomach flutters as his hazel eyes flit back to me.

You’re Cal, then? The teacher mispronounces my name. I look away from the boy. Mr.—I check my schedule—Ericson. Not his fault, though—no i.

"Call-e. Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find the room." My eyes wander around the classroom. My last English class had perfectly even rows, and a teacher who smelled like oranges and cigarettes.

Just don’t make it a habit. He pauses, checking something off on his clipboard, and then continues. Well, welcome, Calle. You and your knight in shining armor can have a seat over here. Mr. Ericson gestures to a round table next to Blond Girl. A red-haired girl dressed in black sits alone at the table, softly sketching on her binder.

As we scoot by, my backpack grazes a girl in a purple tank top sitting next to Blond Girl.

Hey! she yelps, clutching the back of her head as if burned.

Sorry, I say, quickly slipping into my seat, cheeks flaming.

Don’t worry, the redhead at my table says, not looking up from her binder. Nothing in that head to damage.

Bite me, Alexa, Purple Tank Top hisses.

Alexa smiles.

I sink down in my seat, glancing at the next table. Is it my imagination, or did the boy smile too?

***

You gotta eat, right? Drew finds me several periods later.

Wow, Mr. Welcoming Committee. I try to sound casual, but inside I am flying. I’ve never had a lunch invite on the first day. Last year, at Bell Middle, I spent the first day’s lunch period in the nurse’s office with a fake stomachache.

Follow me.

We weave our way through the clumps of students sitting on the lawn in front of the school toward a large gnarled tree. It casts an arc of shade, its roots spilling onto the sidewalk that separates the road from the lunching teenagers. I stare closely at the group of students lounging under the tree, recognizing the red-haired girl we sat with in English. Alexa. She laughs at something a boy in a Weezer shirt says and flips her head, as if her cropped hair had not always been so short.

"Hello,

Reviews for Songs for a Teenage Nomad

[pocketmermaid · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

So very lame and boring. Just felt like I was eavesdropping at some high school and their melodramatic lives, with name-dropping of musical artists peppered in for good measure. I was intrigued by the book because I thought it might be connected to music in an interesting way. Not so. Instead I got the story of Calle, who is deeply connected to listening to music on her portable CD player and writing in her "song journal", and her nomadic lifestyle instigated by her mother moving her around (eight times in 14 years) the state of California every time she breaks up with a guy. The story follows Calle's freshman year in Andreas Bay, where she has the usual teenage drama: unrequited love; popular girl as arch-nemesis; overly concerned teacher; mother who won't listen to her; being photographed in her skivvies and pic posted on MySpace. Every piece of the action felt so disjointed, which is odd because all of it is very relatable to teens. I just don't think that transcribing the high school experience for no reason whatsoever makes for very good storytelling. There's the sub-plot, or maybe it's actually supposed to be the main plot, of Calle wanting to find out more about her long lost father that walked out on her and her mother when she was a baby. The conclusion to that is so wildly unbelievable that it was offensive. And I'd never thought I'd say this about a book, especially a book I regard so poorly, but I actually thought all of the supporting characters were way more interesting than the narrator! They all rose above Calle in personality and spunk, and I found myself wishing the story was about any one of them instead.

[sennebec · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Calle Smith feels like no place is home. After all, she's moved twelve times in the past eight years. That's not exactly great for feeling a sense of community or making friends, but she's learned to rely on herself and keeps a song journal as a balance wheel.This time things are different, despite the same old story about her dad being a complete loser and her mother having finally found and married Mr. Right (for the umpteenth time). Her mom has always told her that her father abandoned them, but as Calle starts making connections and friends, she also begins to question whether her mother has been honest with her.Making friends is a strange, new experience, but one that grows on her, particularly the kids involved in drama. Sam, enigmatic Sam, intrigues her from the day he sits beside her and she feels a connection. Unfortunately, he won't treat her in public like he did that day and despite her attraction to him, she begins to think that he's only playing her. As time goes on, however, she discovers they have more secrets and sadness in common. Near the end of the book, Calle not only has to deal with the truth about her parents' relationship, but with the reasons, both sad and complex, that make Sam unable to be open about his feelings for her. They are ones she can understand and can help him work through. The ending, while sad and with a real tragedy, is satisfying.This is an excellent story with extremely well-crafted characters. Teens who like a book that has strong emotional appeal, or who have had difficult family experiences growing up will really relate to it.

[kobooks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a story about being true to yourself as well as truthful with others. Calle has moved around all her life. Her father left her and her mother when she was a baby, or so she is led to believe. Her mother dates a number of men who all coincidentally drive Ford model cars. As each of her mom's relationships end, they end up moving to another town. The story centers on Calle living in her current town and how she assimilates and makes friends in her new high school. There are the typical cliques we are all familiar with and the drama group ends up befriending her even though she's not into acting. She develops a crush with the football player, Sam, and he has his own unique story that is revealed. In the end, she finally finds out about her father and the real reason her mother has kept them moving all these years. I liked this book better than I thought I would. Even though the main character is a teenager, I didn't find her whiny/spoiled and she didn't get on my nerves. Despite this girl's problems, she's real, she's strong, and she's as normal as can be expected. Each chapter begins with Calle's journal entry of a scene from her past characterized by a song. This book is an easy quick read for fans of YA fiction.

[leirali · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

So very lame and boring. Just felt like I was eavesdropping at some high school and their melodramatic lives, with name-dropping of musical artists peppered in for good measure. I was intrigued by the book because I thought it might be connected to music in an interesting way. Not so. Instead I got the story of Calle, who is deeply connected to listening to music on her portable CD player and writing in her "song journal", and her nomadic lifestyle instigated by her mother moving her around (eight times in 14 years) the state of California every time she breaks up with a guy. The story follows Calle's freshman year in Andreas Bay, where she has the usual teenage drama: unrequited love; popular girl as arch-nemesis; overly concerned teacher; mother who won't listen to her; being photographed in her skivvies and pic posted on MySpace. Every piece of the action felt so disjointed, which is odd because all of it is very relatable to teens. I just don't think that transcribing the high school experience for no reason whatsoever makes for very good storytelling. There's the sub-plot, or maybe it's actually supposed to be the main plot, of Calle wanting to find out more about her long lost father that walked out on her and her mother when she was a baby. The conclusion to that is so wildly unbelievable that it was offensive. And I'd never thought I'd say this about a book, especially a book I regard so poorly, but I actually thought all of the supporting characters were way more interesting than the narrator! They all rose above Calle in personality and spunk, and I found myself wishing the story was about any one of them instead.

[mattandmandy2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

was a great book to read the story was good from the start the ending how ever was a liittle fast and let me down some i thought that the ending could have been so much better. three out of five stars

[sithereandread · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

SONGS FOR A TEENAGE NOMAD, by Kim Culbertson, is a marvelous story of a girl finally finding a place to fit in and learning the truth of her past. Culbertson created a fantastic world that focused on music and what it is like to be different and not caring if you fit in. Calle was used to moving around California with her mother and was okay with that until she found people that she truly cared about and wanted anything but to lose them. She finally was able to have a "normal" high school life until she fell in love and discovered family secrets that threatened her relationship with her mother. I am the type of music-lover that knows when I like a song but have no idea who it is by or when it was done (or re-done for that matter). Culbertson showed me how music can really affect and dictate a person's life. For Calle, music reminded her of her mother's past relationships and she kept them in a diary like a photo-album of her life. It was fascinating how Calle did not shy away from her feelings of her mother's past husbands/boyfriends, but saw them as events in her life that were stepping stones. I enjoyed getting into Calle's mind. She is a great character that is so strong and full of love. I loved her sass and sarcasm even when she found it embarrassing when talking to Sam.There were so many dimensions in this book that were unexpected and kept me glued to the book. I actually finished it in one sitting! Just when I thought I knew what was going on, I was pushed into another direction completely. Nothing was what it seemed and I think that was the point. In high school (and anywhere else for that matter), rumors can blow up out of proportion and family/relationship secrets are wrongfully spread. I was very surprised after peeling the layers of each of the characters down to the core that everyone had issues and no one was perfect. I think, especially in YA books, that this is a great concept to comprehend because that popular boy that you think you have no chance with, may just need someone like you in his life.Overall, this was a great romantic and musical read and I definitely recommend it.

[itsjustme_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

WOW!!!!! Great book!

[perpetualpageturner · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Between 3.5 -4 starsI picked this book up on a whim to be honest. I never had heard of it but I like music themed books and I wanted to sign up for an ARC tour to see what they were all about. I ended up enjoying this a lot more than I thought I would. I really thought it was a well written books for teens (and YA loving adults!) that seemed very real--it didn't seem like the cliched high school experience that never actually really happens in real life. The romantic relationship wasn't that crazed, "OMG I saw him and I loved him and three days later we were in love forever" kind of relationship.I loved Calle. I loved her song journal and I just thought she was refreshingly original. I just felt for her throughout the story--the moving around, the boy troubles, the daddy issues, etc. The girl didn't have an easy life. I just wanted to see things get better for her and I was so angry with her mom for keeping her into the dark about everything with her dad. Give the girl some credit and tell her the truth! I actually couldn't stand her mom. I understand she was being protective but lying is never the right way. I couldn't stand how she kept uprooting her Calle all the time. I was happy Calle started to stand her ground in the end.I loved the soundtrack that went along with this book! At the beginning of each chapter there was a song accompanied by a memory. I loved this idea! I felt like kindred spirits with Calle because I very much have my own song journal in my head where I associate very vivid memories with songs. Let's just talk about what a BANG of an ending it was. That's all I'll say. I still have mixed feelings about it.My final thought: This is a really good (clean) YA novel with a likable main character that is a free-spirited, smart girl! The premise isn't too different and the story, at first glance seems to be nothing special, but while reading it you will find it to be unique and special and explores some real gritty issues in life--absent fathers, dysfunctional families, depression, etc. If you are into contemporary YA and are a music lover, this might be a good fit for you!

[crochetbunnii · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed Calle's search for herself and resolving the mystery of her father. Each chapter begins with a reference to a song (usually 90s music) that may not be familiar to most teens, but I was definitely able to identify each song. The chapter introduction sets the mood for the entire chapter. This was a great read and I like the idea of starting a group for teens to create their own song journals to document the memories they have attached to particular songs.

[blodeuedd_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

There were something about this book. How to put my finger on it, it was just good.It's the story of Calle, a girl who truly is a teenage nomad. Her mum finds a guy, lives with him, or marries him, is happy, but then leaves. Calle goes from school to school, and the only thing constant is her journal. There she writes down memories when she hears different songs. Now she is at a new school, she actually gets friends, she falls for a boy, and she longs to stay. Then there is the mystery concerning her father, and why her mum keeps on running.First I must say that I found the name a bit funny, since here it's a boys name, and I kept thinking of my second cousin. Anyway...Calle is a great girl, she loves her mum, even if they move all the time. She is really creative, and smart. She falls for a guy, who I can't make up my mind about at first. But then he also has secrets.What I also like is that it's not too much drama, I mean there is drama, a lot of serious stuff, but not those cliché YA dramas, and not drinking or fooling around either. She is just a normal teenager living at the fringes of High School. But there is one mean girl though, isn't there always one.This books also deals with some big secrets, and slowly she finds out about her dad, her mum, and what is going on with that boy she likes. And in the end I got some tears in my eyes, because it was lovely, happy, and sad too.A great YA book, for everyone, and I really enjoyed her creative side. It made me think what songs I associate for things that have happened.

[vampiregirl76 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

As long as Calle Smith can remember, her and her mother have always been on the moving-- always running, but running from what? In eight years Calle has livrd in 12 different places. Never making friends, never staying long. Currently she finds her self in Andreas Bay, California. Same old song, but everything new too. Music and her song journal keep her sane. Soon enough she finds herself having actual friends, maybe even love.I could really relate to Calle. We didn't move as much -- but enough to know the feeling of "first days" Plus the dreaded feeling of being the new girl and having to stand up and introduce yourself to the class.Songs for a Teenage Nomad is a coming of age story. Finding oneself, uncover secrets and discovering your roots. It was a moving tale that I really enjoyed. I ended up reading it in one sitting, it's a keeper. Calle was a great character to read about. It had a bittersweet ending but I loved it just the same. Infused with wonderful songs that define moments. If this was a movie it would have a killer soundtrack. Not only has Ms. Culberston written a riveting story with compelling characters, she makes you stop and think about what songs you'd put in your own journal.