Riley nodded dumbly then JD pointed over her shoulder. “Your train is that way.”
“We’re on different trains?”
“Of course. We’re going different places. And this is my train here. Have a nice trip—”
“Don’t call me cupcake,” Riley barked, holding up a hand.
JD turned, his hands on the straps of his backpack. Riley thought she heard him say “feisty” under his breath.
“OK.” Riley turned and scanned the arches that led to the train platforms. Annoying as he was, she kind of wished she and JD were taking the same train. “See ya.” She glanced down at her ticket again then up at the platforms. Not a single number on the platforms matched a single number on her ticket. She bit her lip, her nerves starting to thrum just under her skin.
“Granite Cay. Now boarding for Granite Cay. Train number 63 on platform 6. Now boarding…” The polite overhead voice faded off as Riley rushed to the platform, disappearing into the throng of people crowding onto the car.
Once she was seated, Riley pulled out her Kindle in a feeble attempt to quiet her mind. She felt like a rebel, a spy. She felt like she was doing something naughty and dangerous, and the thunk of her heart felt good.
Riley Spencer: bad girl. Free.
She smiled to herself and halfheartedly watched the rest of the people file onto the train—a mother yanking her school-aged daughter by the arm, a slew of businessmen each more gray tweed than the next, and the man Riley had run into in the vestibule. He walked past her, offering not a smile but a pleasant enough expression, and Riley felt heat bloom in her cheeks. She hoped he’d move on to the next train car but she didn’t dare crane her head to look.
When the train lurched to a slow start, there were still people clogging the aisle ways, and Riley hugged her backpack to her chest while people plopped into every vacant seat. The man from the vestibule wandered back and sat in the seat across the aisle from her, looking straight ahead.
A tight fist of panic squeezed her heart.
Is he keeping tabs on me? Following me? Does he know my parents? Do my parents know I’m sneaking around?
The man pulled out a newspaper and unfolded it dramatically then buried his head and read.
You’re an idiot, Riley. Lots of people bought tickets in Boone and then got on this train. Get. A. Grip.
She plugged her earphones into her tablet and pulled up a playlist, turning the music up loud. She flopped her head back and tried to close her eyes, but her body was still humming with excitement—and anxiety.
What if her parents knew someone on this train?
Riley glanced around as carefully as she could, doing her best to scrutinize every face, trying to catalogue them: were they looking at her? Had they ever shopped at her father’s store? She was gripping the armrests, static whirring in her ears. She couldn’t remember when her playlist ended.
“Hey. Hey!”
Riley blinked and straightened up, immediately wincing at the crick in her neck.
“JD?”
She sat up, panicked, and slapped her palm to her forehead. “Did I get on the wrong train? Oh my—”
JD shot her a nonchalant half smile. “No, you’re fine. Doing what you do best.”
She scrunched up her face, not understanding. “Riding the train?”
“No. Sleeping.” He smiled and Riley rolled her eyes.
I wasn’t sleeping, Riley wanted to say—but she caught herself before “I was studying everyone on the train” rolled out.
“What are you doing here?” Riley gripped the armrests and peeked out the windows. “And why are we stopped?”
“Well, we’re stopped because we’re here, and I’m here because”— he looked down quickly, his eyes avoiding hers—“I’m pretty sure you don’t ride the train all the time.”
Riley felt her stomach flop. “That obvious, huh?”
JD held his thumb and forefinger a millimeter apart. “Little bit. Especially since I’ve never seen you at the train station back home.”
“We have a train station back home?”
“Across the street from the mall. Nice place; only smells like pee on two platforms. Remind me to take you on a tour someday. You ready?”
She followed him off the train and squinted in the bright sun. “How long did the ride take? Did I sleep the whole way? And hey, if you got on the train, where were you the whole time?”
“Ry, the way you sleep, I could have crawled into your lap and taken a nap right there and you would never have noticed.”
“How do you know how I sleep?”
He yanked a Blow Pop from his jeans pocket, unwrapped it slowly, and popped it in his mouth. “You fell asleep in detention more than once or twice.”