Page 66 of Leaving the Station
“Of course.”
“No.” She leans her head against my shoulder and mutters into my sweatshirt. “For everything.”
“Any time.”
I ease her into the lower bunk, then sit next to her as she falls asleep. She looks like how I imagine a fairy-tale princess might,lying in her tower, hidden from the world.
She’s more peaceful than I’ve ever seen her.
I head back out to the observation car, and there’s a surprise visitor.
“Edward?”
He turns from where he’s sitting to wave me over. “Hey, Zoe,” he says, peppy as ever.
“What are you doing up here?” I ask.
“I don’t live in the snack car, silly.”
“I know that,” I tell him. “But wouldn’t you rather be in the employee quarters?”
“Not right now,” he says. “Sometimes I like to remind myself what it feels like to take the train as a regular citizen.”
“Of course,” I say. “Glad you’re hanging out with the plebs.”
He laughs and puts his book down, patting the seat next to him. “Let’s chat. I like getting to know the people of the train.”
I comply. “Happy to be of service.”
“So,” he says, “tell me about yourself.”
“Is this a first date?”
He laughs at that. “You’re funny.”
“I’m really not.”
His face turns serious. “And I’m not kidding. I want to know about you. Let’s hear it.”
“But we’re all getting off the train tomorrow,” I say. “Why would you want to know more about me when you’re about to meet a whole new batch of people?”
He’s taken aback by this, which: fair. Maybe it’s a silly question.For anyone other than me, the answer would be simple. Justbecause.
“Because every single person who takes the train is fascinating to me,” he says. “I get to talk to people from all over the world. I’ve spoken to bankers from Japan and singers from Croatia. I might not see you again, but at least I’ll have met you.”
His words stir a feeling in me that I don’t want to have stirred. I wanted to fade into the background on this train ride—I didn’t want to think about who I was or who I had to be.
But Edward sees everyone, regardless of whether they want him to or not. I don’t knowhowhe sees me; I just know that he does.
My thoughts spiral from there until Edward waves a hand over my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod, and the movement shakes the worst of the anxiety out of me. “I’m fine.”
“Come on,” he says. “Spill. There has to be a reason you’re on the train.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I do. Not everything, but parts of it—disappointing my parents, how I can’t for the life of me figure out who I am now that I’m not going to be a doctor, how it’s been hanging out with Oakley. How I’m worried I’ve messed up what I worked so hard for in high school.
“How old are you?” he asks when I’m done.
