The Train (4 page)

    Everyone seemed so happy. The Cafe was cheerful and lively in its coat of bright red, and sunshine and light streamed in through the windows and skylights. Each round red table, every booth, was occupied by a group of four or five laughing, joking students, every bright red stool filled, and the upbeat music inspired more than one foot to tap out the beat on the red-and-white checkered floor tiles.

    So much life here. But at the other end of the train, in the baggage car… there was a coffin.

    Go-back, go-back, go-back…

    She couldn't go back any more than Frog could. Frog - Frederick Roger Drummond - dead at seventeen, killed in a horrible, fiery crash not far from her house. They heard the sirens, she and her friends, and had dismissed them. Busy, she thought, we were busy and we paid no attention.Not that they could have helped. Jean Marie had said the car was a blazing mass of melting metal when help arrived.

    Poor Frog. Kerry had said, "He shouldn't have been going so fast. He always drove too fast. He almost hit me once, roaring out of the school parking lot. I screamed at him, but he didn't hear me."

    But Frog couldn't have known that on this particular Friday night, driving too fast was going to kill him. If you were only seventeen and you knew absolutely, positively that something was going to take away the rest of your life, you wouldn't do it, would you? Not even if you were unpopular and unhappy, like Frog. Not at seventeen. Not unless you didn't want to live anymore.

    Could Frog have been that unhappy, that night? Guilt and shame washed over her. Could she and her friends have made the new boy so miserable that he would actually end his own life?

    We didn't mean to, she told herself quickly to ease the pain that washed over her. We didn't mean to. We didn't know.

    But the police hadn't mentioned suicide. No one had. She was imagining things. A guilty conscience.,.?

    "Penny." Mack came up behind her, startling her out of her morbid thoughts.

    Hannah looked up at him. "What?"

    "I'll give you a penny if you'll tell me what you're thinking about. My grandmother used to do that, offer me a penny for my thoughts."

    Hannah smiled. "A penny won't even buy chewing gum now, Mack. Inflation. You'd better up the price."

    "Okay, a nickel then, but that's my top offer."

    "I was thinking about Frog," she answered reluctantly.

    "Don't."

    "I can't help it. Everyone talking about him just now… we really weren't very nice to him."

    "Hannah, he was a creep. Don't make him a saint now because something awful happened to him."

    "I'm not." Hannah's tone was more defensive than she'd meant it to be. She wanted Mack to understand what she was feeling. But how could he? None of them had liked Frog, that was the truth, and Mack was being more honest about it than she was.

    Still, she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that Frog was listening to every word she said. The thought raised the flesh on her arms in tiny bumps.

    "Hannah and Mack," Kerry cried, "come on back here! Lewis is telling incredibly stupid jokes and if you don't get on over here, he'll keep it up. Save me!"

    Hannah turned, Coke in hand and, at that instant, without warning, the cheerful light allowed by the huge windows and the ceiling skylights disappeared as the train entered a tunnel. A split second later, the overhead lights went out, and the entire Cafe was plunged into total darkness.

    There were screams and voices saying, "What the…?" Hannah clutched for Mack's sleeve. The utter blackness, combined with the hollow sound ofthe train rattling through the tunnel, made her breath catch in her throat. She hated tunnels. There was no way out of them - you couldn't just decide halfway through, I don't like this tunnel anymore, and leave it by a side exit. There was only the entrance and the exit, and some tunnels were very, very long. There was no space, no air, and you were surrounded on all sides by concrete or rock. Sometimes there was water above and on both sides of the tunnel, and Hannah found those the scariest of all. Did this train go through that kind of tunnel? She didn't know.

    Why had the Cafe lights gone out?

    The screaming and shouting was followed by a bewildered, shocked silence. Into it rang Ms. Quick's voice. "All right, everyone, calm down! You've been in darkened rooms before, and you survived."

    Her weak attempt at humor fell flat. When no one laughed, and a few boys yelled complaints, Mack calmly asked the chaperone, "Any idea what the problem is? We know the tunnel is dark, but what happened to the lights in here?"

    "I don't know," Ms. Quick answered, her voice close enough to Hannah that she thought she could probably reach out and touch the teacher if she chose. She didn't. Mack's sleeve was enough for now.

    A startled gasp came from somewhere off to Hannah's left. She peered through the darkness but could make out only the bulky shadow of a booth.

    The train left the tunnel as suddenly as it hadentered, and natural light and sunshine flooded the Cafe through the skylights and windows.

    Ms. Quick went immediately to the light switch on the wall beside the entrance to the Cafe and flicked it, bathing the already bright room in artificial light.

    "Well, honestly!" the teacher exclaimed in disbelief, "someone turned off the switch!"

    When she realized that no one was listening to her, she clucked in annoyance. Then her eyes followed theirs, and she gasped in horror. Everyone in the Cafe was staring in mute shock at Lolly Slocum, sitting alone in a bright red booth off to Hannah's left.

    Hannah thought, Did she hear all the things we said about Frog?

    And then the horror of the scene before her obliterated all thought.

    What everyone was staring at was a bright red print bandana, twisted into a "rope" and wound around Lolly's neck so tightly that her round, plain face was rapidly turning purple and her eyes, wild with desperation, were bulging dangerously. Her fingers clawed frantically at the brightly-colored noose, but in vain. Her mouth opened and closed silently as she struggled for precious air.

    Like a dying fish, Hannah thought numbly.

    Lolly Slocum was choking to death.

    

    

    

    While everyone watched, transfixed, Mack took two huge steps forward and began working on the bandana knot digging into the back of Lolly's purple neck.

    A waiter whispered, "What should we do?"

    The elderly man working behind the counter gave no response other than to continue staring, wide-eyed, at the victim.

    "Someone get the conductor!" Ms. Quick barked. "See if there's a doctor on board!"

    Lewis whirled and ran.

    The only sound in the room as Mack struggled with the stubborn knot was the ugly, tormented gurgling coming from Lolly Slocum.

    This isn't happening, Hannah thought, sickened by the sight of Lolly's bulging eyes rolling back in her head. This can't be happening. It can't be real.

    "I think she's had it," someone said softly, eyes on Lolly. Then someone else said, "Well, who is she? Is she with our tour?"The question saddened Hannah. Lolly's fellow students didn't even know who she was. Parker High wasn't such a big school. Shouldn't they all know each other? Shouldn't the people watching Lolly fight for her life at least know who she was?

    When at last the bandana gave way under Mack's fingers, Lolly took one deep, grateful gasp of air, and fainted. Her head fell forward like a sack of sand. There was a loud, sickening thunk as her forehead slammed into the red Formica tabletop.

    Several girls screamed.

    "She's dead!" one cried, and then the same voice asked tremulously, "Isn’t she?"

    Ms. Quick checked Lolly's pulse. "She's alive. But she needs a doctor. Where is Lewis with that conductor? Oh, I do hope there's a doctor on board."

    There was. A tall, gray-haired woman in a dark suit arrived with Lewis and the conductor. She was carrying a fat black bag. Lolly was beginning to stir, moaning hoarsely, when they burst into the Cafe.

    "Everybody out!" the doctor snapped, hurrying over to help the victim sit up. Singling out an adult in the group, she turned to Ms. Quick and added, "Except you! I want to know what happened here."

    With the doctor's help, Lolly leaned her head back against the seat, her mouth working furiously to gulp in air. An ugly necklace of raw, wounded skin encircled her throat.

    Flushing guiltily, Ms. Quick waved everyone else out of the room. "Go straight to your compartmentand stay there until you hear from me," she ordered in a shaky voice. Then she turned her attention to doctor and patient.

    Shock slowed the steps of the tour group as they left the Cafe. "Is that girl going to die?" someone whispered as they made their way through the cars.

    "I don't think so," Mack said. "If she was, she probably wouldn't have regained consciousness."

    That remark broke the stunned silence. Everyone began talking at once, some softly, some more loudly, about what had happened to Lolly. There was disbelief in every comment.

    When the door had been closed and latched from the inside, the compartment felt safe. But Hannah knew that Lolly's attack had changed the tour for all of them. Looking at the pale, drawn faces of her friends as they collapsed onto the maroon velour seats, she knew they were still seeing Lolly's mottled, swollen face.

    "You think she'll live?" Lewis asked Mack, his voice subdued.

    Mack shrugged.

    "I keep seeing her face," Kerry said, leaning her head back against the seat and closing her eyes. "It was… it was awful." She trembled. "Horrible!"

    "It must have hurt," Hannah whispered, sitting down beside Mack. "She looked like she was in such terrible pain. Who would…?" She couldn't finish the question, but they all knew what she had been about to say.

    Who would do such a terrible thing?

    Kerry opened her eyes. "Maybe one of thoseweirdos she came with did it. That Eugene character was Frog's best friend. Maybe he freaked out and decided Frog wants Lolly with him. I've heard of weirder things."

    Mack and Lewis clucked in disgust.

    But Hannah remained silent. Once, when she had visited her grandmother's grave in the cemetery, she had come upon Eugene, sitting with his back against a tree. Thinking he was there for the same reason she was, she had said politely, "It's kind of nice that we can bring flowers here. I think it sort of helps, don't you?"

    And he had looked at her with pale, cool eyes and said; "I just come because I like it here."

    Hannah found herself wondering how Lolly had ended up with three such strange boys as her only friends. Unlike Frog, Lolly wasn't really unattractive. She was a big girl, but it seemed to Hannah that she at least made an effort to look her best, wearing neat, clean clothes, trying to jazz them up a little with a colorful scarf around her neck or a pretty pin on a blouse collar. Hannah remembered seeing her once in the hall in a plain, short-sleeved white blouse, a small bunch of artificial violets pinned to the collar, repeating the color of the purple corduroy skirt Lolly was wearing. She had looked almost pretty.

    So it wasn't appearance that had set Lolly apart. And it wasn't attitude, the way it was with Frog. Lolly Slocum was pleasant enough in classes and in the halls, nodding or smiling at people she passed.

    "Why don't any of us like Lolly?" Hannah askedquietly as Mack and Lewis, Jean Marie and Kerry continued to sit in shocked silence. Their faces were still gray with shock and disbelief.

    Kerry stared at her. "What?"

    "Why isn't Lolly more popular? Most of the people in the Cafe didn't even know who she was. I mean, she seems nice enough. So why doesn't anyone like her?"

    "Because she dated Frog," was Kerry's immediate answer. "And Frog was a creep."

    "No, I mean, before that. Before she dated Frog. Why didn't we like her then?"

    Her friends exchanged confused glances. Kerry shrugged. "How should I know? I don't remember. I think… I think she was just… not fun. Too… quiet or something. What's the difference, anyway? Even if we had liked her, when she started going out with Frog we would have changed our minds, right?"

    "Maybe if we'd liked her," Hannah said slowly, "she wouldn't have gone out with someone like Frog. Maybe she wouldn't have had to."

    Lewis groaned. "More guilt? Look, some sick nut turned off the lights and wrapped a noose around that girl's neck. But it didn't happen because of the way we treated Frog or his girlfriend Polly."

    "Lolly," Hannah said, agitated. "Her name is Lolly."

    "Actually," Jean Marie said, "it's Louise. Her real name is Louise. She was in Choir, and Mr. Foley called her Louise."

    "I didn't know she was in Choir." Hannah frowned. "Did you ever talk to her, Jean Marie?"

    A pink flush of shame colored Jean Marie's cheeks. She shook her head. "No, not really. But," she added quickly, "she was only there a couple of times. Then I guess she quit, because all of a sudden, she didn't show up. Foley was really mad. She had a nice voice. Alto. We're short on altos. I heard she'd joined the Drama Club instead."

    A sudden rap on the door ended the conversation about Lolly. Startled, they all stared at each other and no one moved.

    

    

    

    "It's me!" Ms. Quick's voice called from beyond the door. "Let me in!"

    Hannah jumped up and opened the door.

    The teacher stood in the hallway. "Lolly is going to be all right," she said, relief in every syllable. "The doctor said she could continue the trip, but we're having trouble calming her down, and she wants to go back home. I can't blame her. We're sending her back on the express train."