Yes, that’s right. There were two grand prizes, two fellowships for writers to travel together, “enjoying the camaraderie of a shared passion for writing,” and offering a chance to “make lifelong friends.” So now we’re not only zigzagging around the country while Mimi writes about every moment of it, nagging us to “add our voices” whenever possible (and, oh yes, she’s back to asking me to share my “insights”), we are doing so glued to other people, so that I will not only be annoyed with my family’s unrelenting weirdness, but I’ll share the embarrassment with strangers who’ll be stuck with us for the rest of the month. Same travel schedule, same hotels, same EVERYTHING.
Obviously, I don’t really want to kill Mimi. But maybe I’ll try to become an emancipated minor, which we learned about in English class last year. I swear at this point I feel like the courts would agree that I’d be better off on my own. I could go live with Laurel maybe. Or…hmm…she lives with around nine people in a pretty small house. Maybe I’d move in with Em. Honestly, what is the point of parents if they are going to be so mind-bogglingly thoughtless? The really incredible part is that Mimi seemed to think I’d be happy about this. Because there’s a thirteen-year-old BOY in the other family.
“This is a friend for you!” she said, actually sounding baffled that I wouldn’t be grateful. “I know how hard it is not to have people your own age here! Now you’ll have someone on your level.”
Because some boy from Texas is on my level.
There should be tests you have to pass to become a parent, I think. We had to fill out an eight-page application to adopt the cats, and yet…somehow parents can just happen? I CANNOT EVEN BELIEVE MY LIFE.
I’m calmer now, thanks to my deep yoga breathing. (In through the nose, out through the mouth, smell the flower, blow out the candle. It really works!) Also, I asked Laurel about what it takes to become an emancipated minor, and I don’t think that’s an avenue I’m going to pursue. But I guarantee that I will not be joining the get-to-know-you chat that Mimi has in mind. In fact, I think this marks the beginning of my staying away from everyone. Let them hang out—I’ll be hiding. Until California, if necessary.
To recap: I did not agree to be quoted extensively for publication. I did not agree to befriend some random Texas dude who probably has fifty opinions about my family and me after looking at us. And I definitely didn’t agree to show up for some photo op for National Rail. So no. Nope. Nopenopenope. I’m staying right here.
Just got back from the stupid photo op.
Mom is apparently not remotely interested in free will or individual rights. I can’t believe she’s a judge—she’s the least fair person in the universe. Maybe I should file a complaint.
Sorry if this all sounds overdramatic, but…my family. GAH. Why??? Why do they have to be so…FRIENDLY?? Jeez. It’s bad enough being all together all the freaking time. But now we’re supposed to be besties with these total strangers? Please. After our oh-so-awkward introduction, I’m sure they’re going to want to stay far away from us anyway.
It’s hard to imagine getting off to a worse start.
I suppose I should back up.
Around half an hour ago Laurel, Root, Ladybug, and I headed out to go to the dining car, and while I was (obviously and naturally) totally annoyed that we had to do this, Ladybug was crazy excited about making new friends. She was flying Bruce on an X-wing fighter that someone gave her, swooping and zooming into the walls as the train swayed. And Root was right behind her, going, “It’s pretty chill, actually, feeling the rhythm of the tracks below us, letting the motion of the train push and pull, push and pull….”
Then we got to the door of the dining car, and Ladybug ran through, catching her toe on the edge and flying into the car. She was fine, but Bruce flew off the X-wing and sailed, pinwheeling—sword-over-feet-over-sword—through the air.
We all watched him go, too stunned to even yell a warning. Then he landed with a HUGE splash in a coffee cup.
I didn’t think a cup could even hold that much coffee—it seemed like more liquid flew out than could have possibly fit in the mug. It was like some kind of horrible magic. Luckily, it wasn’t scalding hot. Unluckily, it splashed a full-on tidal wave of brown liquid all over the tiny old woman whose cup it was. She didn’t seem to speak much English, but, if I had to guess, she sure knows plenty of swear words in whatever language she was speaking. (Romanian? Latvian? Czech?? No idea…didn’t sound like there were a lot of vowels.) Her husband, on the other hand, looked like he was trying not to laugh.
Of course Mom and Mimi ran over, and it was all “We’re terribly sorry!” “We’ll pay for the cleaning bill!” “Let us get you another coffee!” and so on, while the woman kept yelling at them in whatever no-vowel language she spoke and her husband silently rocked back and forth, laughing. Finally she flounced out of the dining car with a last, totally venomous-sounding yowl. (Armenian? Dutch? Hebrew?) Ladybug ran over and grabbed Bruce, shouting, “HE’S FINE! BRUCE IS FINE, DON’T WORRY!”
Silence.
After the Grand Flounce-Out, every single person in the dining car was staring at us. Their faces were somewhere on the spectrum between seriously annoyed and mildly amused. We were all trying to mop up coffee (which of course I got all over my shorts…I look like I rolled in poo), and Mimi was dithering and apologizing to the whole train car, and Ladybug was still bellowing in her ALL CAPS voice that BRUCE WAS FINE.
Through all this, I noticed a boy who was at least five inches shorter than me, wearing a totally normal outfit except for the giant cowboy hat. And he was laughing his head off. Like we were some kind of hilarious reality TV show. Nugatory ac nebulo, that was what he was. (I admit I haven’t done much Latin yet, but the insults are pretty awesome.)
Finally the waiters took away all the wet coffee-smelling napkins, and Mimi calmed down and introduced us to our New Train Friends….I could see the capital letters as she was talking. I call them the annoying people who will make this trip even more embarrassing than it was before. First Mimi introduced me to Travis, aka Cowboy Hat, as though I’m some exotic species, or perhaps a spokesperson for the Nation of Youth. Honestly, the whole meeting-at-the-dining-car was so hideously awkward, I tried practicing my yoga breathing to calm down, which only resulted in Cowboy Hat asking me if I had asthma and needed my inhaler.
For now the NTFs are Gavin, an engineer from Texas who writes thrillers under a pen name, and Travis (giant cowboy hat guy). I guess his grandmothers or some old lady relatives are meeting us in Atlanta, which only means it’s going to get worse. Soon we’ll also have crabby uptight old people with us, judging by Laurel’s piercings and Root’s poncho (though in fairness we all judge his poncho). But for now it’s just the father-and-son team.
Travis stuck his hand out to shake mine, which, I have no idea, is maybe a Texas thing, or a fake-polite, let’s-make-fun-of-the-weirdo thing…who knows? Of course, my hand was filthy from trying to wipe up coffee, but I didn’t know what to do, so I put my hand out too, then pulled it back before he could really get hold of it.
I can see the headline now: Girl Too Confused by Life to Understand Handshaking
WHHHHHYYYYYYY???
But before we could rework the whole teach-Sara-how-to-shake-hands thing, Ladybug asked if she could put Bruce on the brim of the cowboy hat. Travis knelt down so that Bruce could be stuck in the braided band, and that’s when I shuffled into a seat and put my earbuds in. It’s bad enough if he’s going to laugh at me, but I better not see him making fun of my sister.
Mimi kept trying to catch my eye, but I stared down at my iPod and refused to look at her. This was NOT my idea.
Anyway, I went and sat in the dining car with this ridiculous other family that we’re now apparently attached to, but I stared at my lap and ignored everyone. So all I really know is that the boy talks a LOT. And he’s moderately amusing. But in a most annoying way.
Finally back in our room. While we were in the dining car with the endlessly talkin
g Texans, the train left New York through a two-and-a-half-mile tunnel under the Hudson River (thanks, Root, for another Fun Fact!) and into New Jersey. It was kind of cool—while everyone blathered on, I just watched a purply-pink sunset happening out the window. Sunset over New Jersey…Could be a good title for a book. Maybe about a girl who runs away from her family and lives happily ever after in a tree house with her friends.
Fun Fact!
Newark, New Jersey, is the third-largest insurance center in the US and home to the best Tibetan art collection in the world. (Really? Who compiles these facts? Seriously random stuff here. Does the insurance thing have anything to do with the art thing? The mind boggles.)
Not-So-Fun Fact!
We passed what I guess was once an apartment building that’s all broken windows and really crazy graffiti, including some pretty mean things about the president.
It’s kind of mesmerizing, watching the towns zoom by in the darkness. Sometimes we go along a row of houses and I can look right into their windows, which are wide open to catch the breeze. The train whistle blows again and again, every time we cross a road, and we can see the red lights flashing as the cars wait for us to pass. It’s pretty noisy on the train, actually, rumbling and squeaking and chugga-chugga-chugging constantly, not to mention all that whistling. Plus it keeps swinging around turns and jiggling my hand….My handwriting’s not usually this bad, I swear!
Whew. I’m exhausted. Time for bed. Ish. Not sure I’d call them beds when they’re so tiny you can’t even roll over. Hope I sleep. I will say, it’s pretty cool that while we’re sleeping we keep flying along, traveling hundreds of miles. We’ll be in states I’ve never been to before, only I won’t even be awake! (Hopefully.) Tonight we go through Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia. Here’s one more…
Fun Fact!
Elkton, Maryland, which is right on the Maryland–Delaware border, was once famous as a place for couples to elope—they’d run away and get married without having to fill out any paperwork or get permission. (I don’t think I’ll mention that to Laurel and Root. That’s all we need.)
Mimi definitely snores. Or else there is a freaking HUGE bullfrog in our room.
You know what? I’m done wallowing in self-pity. Just because I’m on this trip with a bullfrog and a tiny Roman soldier and my whole family (plus Root), that doesn’t mean I have to give up my dreams! No, every person who’s ever done anything important has had setbacks and prevailed in spite of them! In fact, Mimi is forever babbling on about how kids today need “grit” and “tenacity” and “stick-to-itiveness,” and guess what? Sara—whoops!—RAE Johnston-Fischer has that to spare!
I had pretty much figured there was no point in trying to do much on my list without Em and Vi, but starting right now, I’m recommitting to the Reinvention Project. Who cares if Travis the Texan thinks I’m weird? Or if I have to wait until we have Internet to email Em and Vi? I’ll keep up, I’ll learn Latin and practice yoga and read my nonfiction books, and try out my new casual-but-hip look (arty T-shirts, ballet flats instead of flip-flops, maybe some new jewelry?), and when I get back to Shipton in a month, I’ll be totally ready for middle school! Since I’m awake, I’m starting right now. Downward-facing dog, here I come! Namaste, Rae.
Ouch. I smashed my face into the wall and nearly kicked the window. I think I’d better open the bathroom door and try again. Also, I’m really stiff. But still…ONWARD!
OMG. Mimi, in her excitement about getting off the train to explore the smells or whatever, didn’t quite manage to tell us that we’d be arriving in Greensboro, North Carolina, at FOUR O’CLOCK IN THE MORNING. Apparently the train stops at big-deal stations—like Washington, DC, and Atlanta—during normal hours, but at other, smaller stops during “off-peak hours,” which is code for THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
I definitely need to learn to drink coffee.
Darrell the sleeping car attendant woke us up a few minutes before we arrived, just like he had promised. We had met him before bed last night and he was great, getting us all set up and offering complimentary bottled water (that Root quite loudly refused, asking why, in a country with clean and potable drinking water, anyone would purchase filtered tap water packaged in a planet-despoiling petroleum-based package). Luckily, Darrell just did his big HAHAHAHA laugh at that and told Root he was absolutely right, and it was a crazy world when people spent four dollars for something free. Then he refilled our (recycled stainless steel) water bottles, told us all to sleep well, and said he’d wake us in time to get off in Greensboro.
So Darrell knocks on our door, and it goes something like this. I, of course, was awake, due to Mimi’s bullfrog impression, and was working on my soon-to-be-daily yoga practice.
DARRELL:
(knock, knock!)
SARA:
(Squeak in surprise mid-cobra-to-warrior pose) EEP!…Oh, um? Is it time to wake up?
DARRELL:
Yes, ma’am! Greensboro coming up in nine minutes. I have coffee for your mamas.
SARA:
(Tries to get out of the lunge, trips over the yoga mat, and flies into the wall. Horrible CRRAAASSHH!! when head hits wall.) OWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!
MOM:
(waking suddenly) WHO’S THERE? Sara, are you hurt?
MIMI:
(waking suddenly) IS SOMEONE BREAKING IN?
MOM:
(pulling off her eye mask, almost falling out of her tiny bed) ARE YOU OKAY? GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!
SARA:
OW! Owowowow! My head!
MIMI:
(in a deep scary voice) DID SOMEONE HURT YOU? WHO’S THERE?
SARA:
(rubbing head) It’s just Darrell! I ran into the wall! I’m fine!
DARRELL:
It’s just me, ma’am. We’re almost in Greens—
LADYBUG:
(from next door, sobbing) Mommmmmmyyyyyy!
Finally I turned on the light and managed to squeeze the door open enough to grab the two coffees in disposable cups (sorry, Root). Meanwhile, Mom was bellowing to Ladybug that everything was fine, we were getting off the train. By the time the train slowed to a stop, its long, low horn blasting, we were more or less pulled together, crowded in the hallway with our bags. The Texans were already there, of course, and Travis the Cowboy Hat Wearer actually tried to chat, but I glared at him so hard, he shut up. Who makes conversation at 4:00 a.m.?
We were the only ones getting off in Greensboro. On the station platform I glanced back, and there were beady eyes staring at us from the sleeper car windows nearby. Oh well. We never said we were stealthy.
Also, I have a massive knot on my forehead. I suspect in a few hours I’ll look like a rhinoceros. Or a unicorn. At least I’ll match my room back home. Once we got out into the light, Travis took one look at me and one of his eyebrows shot up so high, it disappeared under his hat. Awesome. Making fun of me is going to be a full-time job for him.
Fun Fact!
Greensboro, North Carolina, was named after Major General Nathaniel Greene, whose forces fought against the British Army of Lord Cornwallis in the Revolutionary War. (Interesting. I always think about the Revolutionary War being up in Massachusetts, what with the Lexington Minutemen and Paul Revere and the Boston Tea Party. But apparently they were kicking British butt down here too.)
Not-So-Fun Fact!
Our Greensboro hotel closes its front desk between 2:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m., so we had to sit outside on a bench. You know what there is to see and do in Greensboro at 5:00 a.m.? NOTHING.
Finally someone came on duty. She looked pretty surprised to see us, but when Mimi explained who we were and about the train, the woman said “Well, bless your heart” around a hundred times and scurried around to get our rooms ready. She asked if we had eaten, and when we said no, she insisted on opening the kitchen herself and getting us “a little bite to tide us over.”
That little bite consisted of:
★ Three eggs
★ A massive bowl of buttery wh
ite mush called grits, which turns out to be oddly delicious
★ Six strips of bacon
★ Two sausages
★ A biscuit covered in creamy gravy (Sounds gross, tasted amazing)
★ Four pieces of toast
PER PERSON.
Of course, Ladybug couldn’t eat a bunch of it, but she managed fine with bacon, sausage, and grits. We had planned to head right out and start experiencing the sights and sounds or whatever, but after that meal we all napped for an hour. Wow. Greensboro is looking up.
Fun Fact!
Greensboro was home to the first lunch counter to be desegregated. Part of it has been dismantled and is now displayed in the Smithsonian National Museum of American History.
Not-So-Fun Fact!
According to Laurel, even though segregation is over, black Americans are more than twice as likely to live in poverty than white Americans because of unfair income practices and other racial injustices.
We separated from the NTFs, thank goodness, who went off to research abandoned parking garages for Gavin’s next thriller. Instead of that totally creepy outing, we spent the afternoon at the International Civil Rights Center and Museum, which, appropriately enough, is in the old Woolworth’s building where that original lunch counter was. Mom started talking about how impressive these young people were and how she had marched on Washington for equal rights for women when she was in college. Laurel fired right up and asked why on earth Mom could admire these activists and still get mad at Laurel for her protests. Mom puffed up and said while the environment was important, of course the stakes were much higher for individual rights, and besides, nobody was shooting at them in the 1990s, and I thought Laurel was actually going to lose it—turn green and bust out of her clothes like the Incredible Hulk—but then Ladybug started whining to go to the children’s museum, which Darrell had told her about.
This Would Make a Good Story Someday Page 3