Page 15 of Princess Seeks Dragon

“Cheap and trashy would be easier.”

“Affordable, then. Looking at the ratio of average income to average housing cost,” I say, thinking about internet searches I want to make—and can’t right now.

“Affordable and nice. Well...” he scratches his head, the surly look fading (probably because I asked him a question that plays to his expertise and didn’t spout off complaints about things he can’t do anything about). “Well, Binghamton or Ogdensburg, I’d say. There are some little towns up in the mountains, too. Most of them don’t have stops on this line, but if you get off at Binghamton, you could get Susquehanna and Western Rail up to Pine Ridge, or even cross over into Pennsylvania and hit Antonia. Nice little college towns, both of them.”

College towns.

My directionless heart leaps, then falls. I can’t enroll in a college. Not yet. I have cash, but not enough to pay for graduate courses.

Someday. This is temporary. I’m not running and hiding forever, just until I’m no longer someone’s gift with purchase.

God, I hope I’m doing the right thing. The smart thing...

“Which one did you say was in Pennsylvania?” I ask.

“Antonia. Real small place. Surprised it has a train station, to be honest. Pretty sure they only put it in for leaf peepers and the college crowd. Ha. More like a college trickle.”

That might be too small of a place. Won’t I stand out?

“Can you tell me what time the train for Pine Ridge leaves Binghamton?”

He doesn’t even have to look it up. “Eight tonight. You have time to spare.” He gives me a stern look as he stops speaking. “Not a place known for its nightlife, though.”

“Oh. Darn.”Good.I don’t need to get mixed up with any sleazy guys or bad boys. And really, if he says there’s no nightlife in a college town, he probably just doesn’t know where to look. I’m sure there will be coffee houses and a few bars. I’ll find a hotel for the night and figure out what to do in the morning.

***

“WHAT THE HELL KINDof college town is this? Mayberry,” I grumble, happy I packed light, mentally already shopping. My feet hurt. There are no cabs to hail, I don’t have cell service up in the mountains with this stupid phone, and it’s very... rural. After walking all over New York, my cute but not very supportive sneakers feel like flat pieces of cardboard on my sore feet as I hike from the train station (a concrete platform with two benches) towards town.

Things rustle in the woods and swoop in the air. Big things. Like giant bats.

You’re going to get murdered by banjo-playing mountain men. Is that a thing? Or do I mean a bloodthirsty lumberjack?

No. If there were lumberjacks, there wouldn’t be so many damn trees in the way and I could see further ahead! I should have come in the daylight.

I sigh and stop tormenting myself. Well. I guess I have a choice of being murdered in the woods in podunk Pine Ridge or being murdered in some mafia shootout in my plushy mansion.

My feet stab me, and I’m leaning towards the plushy mansion.

Sure. Yeah. Where you get to watch your husband groping Carlotta and packing his bags for a weekend with Gabrielle? Where you wonder if there’s ammo in the pantry or poison in the soup?

The two-lane road that I’ve been walking on connects to a street, and I see signs of life up ahead! Cute little brick storefronts. A soft spring breeze, much cooler than California, much cooler than the city, for that matter, brushes my cheek.

My trudging feet become light and springy again as cars pass me, and I spot knots of people moving along the neat gray sidewalks ahead.

Clean and cozy. People are laughing and talking as they stroll, their body language relaxed and open.

This is clearly not a big crime area, or people would walk fast, with a purpose, their heads down, hands clasped on their bags.

Great, it’s cute. What’s that get you?Wide-eyed, I scan everything in sight, trying not to think about how my mother is panicking, what Ronnie is probably confessing to her right now.

Is he accusing the Genovese family of kidnapping me or worse?

Is my mother sobbing in some police station?

My eyes fill with tears, and I wipe them away with an impatient snap of my wrist.

“Ow!” My shout has a twin. Not only did I just walk into the large green sign that proclaims, “Pine Ridge: A Town With a Heart as Big as the Great Outdoors, but my angry arm flail connected with a pregnant blonde in paw print scrubs and scuffed black Doc Martens covered in silver studs.

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