“Wonderful,” Ian whispers, and gives me a heartfelt squeeze on the shoulder. A squeeze that feels a little like,And I forgive you for what you said about my blush earlier.
As Ian leaves, I turn back in my seat to find Clarence gazing out the window, hands folded on his lap, and I get the sense I’m not the only one in our compartment who can see through a situation.
But he doesn’t say anything.
Instead, a minute later, Clarence reaches into his own bag. He flips a small tray table up from the armrest beside him, and sets a checkered board on it. As he places a wooden knight on a horse on the board, sword raised toward the sky, he says, “So. You’re a shrewd girl. How do you feel about chess?”
Chapter5
Last Christmas
“Oh y-yes, he’swoooonderful!” I stutter, my hands struggling to decide between staying frozen at my side and reaching for my throat. Now it’s my turn for my voice to be an octave higher. “Chaucer is so... so...friendly!”
My fingers climb again toward my neck, where the five-foot ball python slithers slowly toward one arm. But every time I move my hands, the snake’s head follows, intrigued by the movement.
“And you say you he sleepswith you?” I say, my voice jumping up to near screeching level as two beady black eyes suddenly turn to look me straight in the eye, inches from mine.
“Every night.” Ian pats the cage at the head of his twin bunk bed. Right beside the train-themed pillowcase. And the rows and rows of model trains, planes, and automobiles lining the shelves—which, I discovered within ten minutesof my arrival, was what he’d actually meant when he said he loved all things, “trains, planes, and automobiles.”
“Right here where he’s safe and sound, though, of course,” Ian adds, then lowers his voice. “After the news came out about the strangled man with his pet snake in Ohio, I felt I had to.” His voice is boisterous as he stands again. “Not that that would ever happen with my Chaucer though.” He practically coos at the snake as he gives it a rub beneath the head. “Chaucer’s much too civilized for that. Aren’t you, Chaucer?”
“Okay,I think he wants to get down,” I say shrilly, as the snake slowly crosses my neck a second time. “Come and get him. Please.Please.”
The second I’m relieved of the snake, I move to the other side of the room. I’d press myself against the wall, except with all the cages hidden among the posters and books, there’s half a chance I’d bump against some other “pet” I’d rather not meet.
When Ian said he loved animals, I didn’t expect him to mean insects. And lizards. And snakes.
I hug my body tightly as Ian wraps the snake around his own neck. He takes a step toward me, and I swivel toward the wall as quickly as I can.
“So these are... your books,” I say. “You really love...” I scan the wall consisting of, and only of, comics. “Books.”
“How can anyone not?” He picks up a colorful comic book with a dozen flying, firing, bomb-throwing, fire-coming-out-of-their-eyes figures on the cover. “Television is so insufficient. It just can’tcapturethe author’s intention. It just can’tcapturethe depths of their imagination.”
There they were. So many pretty words. So insane in reality.
“You know,” he says, picking up another one from among the stacks cluttering the floor. His lips upturn slightly as he looks back at me. “I was just thinking of you when I was reading this one. It kind of reminds me of... us.”
He sees my half-in-shock, half-repulsed expression at the chesty, shield-wielding superhero on the cover and somehow,somehow, takes it the wrong way. “You know.” He inches closer to me, snake waggling its black tongue. “I don’t do this a lot, but... I could let youborrowit—”
Oh, good heavens!I eye the exit door behind him and his beady-eyed snake. I’m going to die here.
Suddenly, the door bursts open.
“There you are!” Oliver exclaims. “I’ve been looking all over for you, MissFairbanks. I was just about to give up on you.”
And to my surprise, he actually does look as though he’d run the length of the train. His tie is as crooked as the short swoop of his disheveled brown hair above his left brow and cardigan. And the plaid button-up underneath is now rolled up to elbows.
It’s quite a handsome look on him, I can’t help noticing. And there’s something about being wanted enough that someone would run across the train in earnest that awakens my already-overworked senses. But then, everything about the last hour has overworked my senses.
I open my mouth to ask what he’s referring to—surely Ihadn’t missed something?—when he answers for me. “You’re about to miss the ringing.”
“The ringing?” I say slowly.
Oliver’s eyes tick from me to Ian meaningfully. “Yes. The ringing.”
Ian, looking thoroughly confused himself, turns toward Oliver, snake swinging. “I—I thought elective activities ended an hour ago.” He presses a hand to his plaid-green chest. “I was told we had a break. Believe me, Conductor. I would never,never,have encouraged MissFairbanks to retreat from an elective opportunity.” He points a finger at me, loyalty flying out the window. “In fact, I tried persuading her to attend them multiple times yesterday. But she—”
“It’s not an elective.” Oliver raises a hand. “This is for the contest. Surely you remember the Christmas costume contest from our staff meeting.”
