Nothing But Blue (16 page)

At first I don't think he heard, but after a minute he gets up and lies down next to me. He puts his hand on my shoulder.

I lean into him and press my lips against his in a hard kiss. I pull his shoulders toward me so that he's half on top of me.

All of a sudden, like he's just forgotten something, Snake breaks away and sits up. “You don't have to do this,” he says.

“But, I thought . . .” I pause. “I mean, you're letting me stay here for free.”

“It's okay,” he says. “Really. I don't want sex. Not like this. I
want
to help you.”

Funny, that's what Clara said. Well, not the sex part but about wanting to help. “Why?” I ask.

“You need help,” he says. “More than you need sex.”

I laugh at this a little bit. He's rejecting me and I'm laughing.

Snake goes on, “Not that I don't find you attractive. I totally do. I think you're beautiful and sad and really interesting. There's something deep inside you. It's just that it's not always about the fooling around, you know. I don't want to be that guy.”

I roll over with my back to him. I fiddle with my bracelet. It's fraying. The colors are faded. It looks like a dirty, limp string around my wrist. “I have a boyfriend anyway,” I blurt. “He's back home.”

“Oh,” Snake says. Silence for a minute, then: “He must be looking forward to seeing you.”

“I guess,” I say.

Snake shifts away from me and moves to get out of the bed. Now he must think I'm a real jerk.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “He's not really a boyfriend. I don't know what he is. I don't even think he knows or cares where I am. He's some guy I thought loved me, but now I don't know. I'm confused.”

Snake lies down again. “Do you want to just cuddle? We don't have to do anything,” he says.

“Okay.”

We shift so that his body wraps around mine. I stare at the copperhead on his arm as it coils around me. I remind myself that this is Snake, not Jake. Did Jake and I ever cuddle? I may not remember everything, but I'm pretty sure we never did. Snake starts snoring lightly, and I feel his warm, minty breath on my neck.

I think about getting home. It's not only to see Jake. It's to finish my last year of school, to be in my room, to see my parents. I miss my parents. They may not be perfect, but I know they care. I ought to be nicer to them. I
will
be nicer to them. But what if it's too late? I shiver.

I know the stretch coming up is going to be especially hilly. So far, I've been lucky. I've managed to find food, places to sleep. I've avoided arrest. And my body has kept going. Will it keep going? A train, I think. A train would be easy. A train would be fast.

Shadow wakes from his spot on the foot of the bed and gives me a sideways glance. I can see the whites in the corners of his eyes. “What should I do?” I whisper.

Shadow blinks.
Try it,
he says.

I hadn't heard from Jake for days. I checked all means of messaging a thousand times. I even checked the mailbox at the end of the driveway, just in case he was going to be romantic and send me an actual letter.

Nothing.

I don't know what I expected. I was the one who left his party without saying goodbye. But I thought for sure he'd contact me to find out what happened. Maybe he was really too drunk to remember that I was even there.

Finally I went to his house. I had to see him. I had to tell him about the move. There wasn't much time left.

His mother answered the door. She was a nervous, thin woman with blond hair piled on top of her head.

“Is Jake home?” I asked.

“Jake's been sick,” she said. “Stomach flu. He's still in bed.”

“Can I see him? I'm a friend.”

She looked at me skeptically but held the door open. “Only for a short time. You don't want to make it worse, or get it yourself.” She pointed the way to his room on the second floor.

It was a typical boy's room: rolled-up futon on the floor, dirty clothes strewn about, rock posters on the wall. More than half the room was devoted to the latest electronic gadgets: computer, wide-screen TV, speakers. Jake was at his desk playing a video game; massive soldiers holding massive guns were running around blowing things up.

I stood in the doorway. “Hey,” I said.

He looked up for barely a second, then went back to the game.

I traipsed through the maze of clothes and stood next to him. “Can I sit?”

“If you want.”

I pulled up a chair and tried to watch the screen but was really watching him. He was so caught up in the game. I didn't know how to ask him what was wrong. I wasn't even sure if there was anything wrong. Maybe this was all normal.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked.

“I've been sick.” He swore at the screen as one of the soldiers let out a bloodcurdling scream and disappeared in a crumble at the bottom of the screen. Then he turned to me. “Really. I had the stomach flu. I've been throwing up for days. This is the first time I've been out of bed. Ask my mom.” He turned back to the computer. “I'm surprised you didn't catch it.”

Something was definitely wrong. Maybe he had been sick for real, or maybe he was faking it just to avoid me. I didn't know how to know. Usually he kissed the top of my head and said, “Hey, babe,” when he saw me. But now he could hardly look at me. I sat in silence while he went on blowing things up. It reminded me of the Jake I knew when we were eight—the one who was nice to me, then knocked me on the head. Wasn't this the same thing? I buried my head in my knees. I was about to start crying, and I didn't want him to see.

Finally I got up. “I'm going to go, then,” I said.

“Okay.” Still not looking.

I got to the door, then turned. “We're moving,” I said. “My mom got a job. It's five hundred miles away. We already sold our house and everything.”

He glanced at me, nodded, and gave a faint smile. He looked so sad I wanted to go over and hug him. But I didn't, and he went back to his game.

As I left Jake's house I ran into Bradley. Obviously Jake wasn't too sick for more visitors. “Hey, there,” Bradley said, sizing me up. “Visiting your boyfriend?”

I raised my arm in a lame half wave, but I didn't acknowledge his question.

Bradley's eyes fixed on my more-than-friendship bracelet, and he grinned. “I didn't think he'd do it. I didn't think you would, either. Guess I underestimated. I'm here to give him the fifty bucks I owe him.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I knew I did not like this guy. I couldn't understand how Jake could be friends with him.

Freight trains. Boxcars. Hobos. Migrant workers. Railroad songs. Escaped convicts. These are the things that come to mind when I think of hopping a train.

We're sitting on the side of the tracks, waiting. I feel like we should sing some kind of hobo song, but we don't. We crouch in silence for what seems like hours. Shadow and Pity wander around restlessly.

“The trains can be way behind schedule,” Snake says. “There's supposed to be one here at six, but it's already getting dark. You have to be ready to run and jump as soon as they come.”

“Why not just get on when it's stopped at a station?” I ask.

Snake shakes his head. “Too risky. Too many rail bulls.”

“Rail bulls?” I ask.

“They're like cops, but they work for the railroad so they have their own rules. They don't like hoppers. They've been known to beat them up, even shoot at them. That's why I carry this.” He takes a hard plastic case out of his pack and opens it. Inside lies a shiny pistol. It looks like a toy. I stare at it, then at Snake. I've never seen a gun before. I've never known anyone with a gun before.

He closes the case. “I've never used it. I just have it, you know, for protection.”

Just then I feel the earth rumble ever so slightly beneath us. I look at Snake, still thinking about the gun. Shadow stands alert, his ears straight up. In the distance is a faint chug.

“It's coming,” Snake says. I start to get up, but Snake holds me back. “Wait till the engine passes.”

The chug gets louder and the tip of a black-nosed engine appears around the bend. Chugging like the little engine that could, determined and steady. My ticket home.

Pity is small enough to fit in Snake's backpack, but Shadow will have to be thrown in. He is wagging and dancing around, caught up in the excitement.

The engine passes. The screech of metal on metal is deafening. The train is not so little anymore—it's more like a long, wild, and dangerous creature.

Snake gives me a signal to go. I run toward the tracks after him, but the force of wind blows me back. I stagger a few feet, then fall.

I yell but Snake can't hear me. I watch him run alongside the train looking for a car he can jump into. Pity's head pokes out of his backpack and bobs. Shadow runs up and tugs on Snake's pant leg. Finally Snake turns and sees me. He comes over, helps me up.

“Come on. You can do it,” he says.

I brace myself, then run steadily alongside the train.

The first cars are liquid containers with no doors. Then the first boxcar passes. The side door is clamped tight. The second, the third, and the fourth boxcars are all padlocked.

“There's usually an open one at the end,” Snake yells.

He's right. The very last car is a boxcar, and miraculously, the side door is open.

Snake jumps in first. That way he can help with Shadow and me.

I pick Shadow up and secure my arm under his belly like he's a giant football and hold his chest with my hand. His long legs dangle down. He's not heavy, but he's not exactly light, either.

It's really awkward to run while carrying a dog and then try to throw him into a moving vehicle. Snake's arms are outstretched waiting to catch him.

“Now!” he yells.

I swing my arm back, and with a heave-ho I toss Shadow in. Snake grabs him. Now for me. I reach. I touch the tip of Snake's fingers. He is about to grip my hand, but the train suddenly gains momentum and my hand slides out. The grip is lost. The train keeps on moving.

Snake shouts, “Run! Run!”

I fill my lungs and push all my energy into my legs. I let a superstrength take over. I am the Bionic Woman. I am faster than a speeding bullet.
Run, run, run.
I don't take my eyes off Snake's hand. I reach it and clasp with all my might while I grab the side of the door with my other hand. Snake pulls and I am able to touch the floor with my feet so I can push up with my legs and swing them over, and voilà, I am in.

I roll across the floor of the car and lie there, panting. Shadow comes over and licks my cheek.

Snake helps me up. “Welcome aboard,” he says.

I start to laugh and cry all at the same time. “Wow!” I say.

“Quite the adrenaline rush, isn't it?” Snake grins.

We are in an open-air boxcar, which means it has sides but no roof. The train whistles and the wheels squeal along the tracks. This is not the romantic notion of train hopping Snake had built up. It's loud and fast and somewhat scary. Not calm at all.

“Does it ever quiet down?” I yell into his ear.

“Sometimes,” he yells back. “These tracks are old.”

The car is full of hay bales. We sit on one and wait.

Eventually the screeching lessens as the train maintains a regular pace straight down the tracks. The setting sun reflects on the hay, turning it golden. Now it feels calm. Now it feels free.

Snake stands on one of the bales and peers over the rim of the car. “Come look,” he says.

I stand next to him. To the left I see a highway in the distance. To the right a round, faint moon is rising over the forest. With the wind in my hair and the stars starting to blink above us, I feel alive. Snake brushes my fingers and then our fingers intertwine. We stand like that for a few minutes.

“We shouldn't be in sight,” Snake says. “I just wanted you to see how beautiful it is.”

We go back to the safety of the interior and lie down.

Every once in a while the train exhales like a giant whale and I jump, but we are safe in our boxcar, plowing through the night mile after mile. I look over at Snake. He is asleep. He looks peaceful. At home.

At some point during the night the train stops and the last few cars are separated. The first half of the train moves on and our section is left on the tracks, motionless and completely silent.

Eventually another engine arrives and attaches itself with a lot of grinding and screeching as we shift onto another track. I hear people milling around and calling out orders.

Snake opens his eyes. He puts his finger to his lips and shakes his head. These must be the rail bulls he was talking about. Shadow starts to growl, and I hold his snout to keep him quiet. We all shrink behind the bales of hay, out of sight should anyone come peeking in.

It seems like forever, but finally someone shouts: “Ready to go!”

The engine starts pumping, the whistle blows, and with unsteady, jerky motions we rattle down the tracks again.

 

When I awake, the sky is blushing pink. The train is moving in rhythm.

“Morning,” Snake says, handing me one of the Danishes he brought from the motel. He's given the dogs food and water already, and they are licking their lips in post-breakfast delight. “We get off in a few minutes,” he says.

We get off much more easily than we got on. One simple jump and we are back on ground as the train carries on.

We cross a dirt road, and Snake looks around in the bushes for something.

“Aha,” he says, locating a flat wooden stake with a red dot painted on it. He moves back some brush to expose a narrow trail. It is so well hidden, you'd never know it was there if you didn't know to look for it. I guess that's the idea.