Mary-Sue

"Here's your booth. Negros are to sit on the baggage car." The long-faced porter's matter-of-fact words turn a carriage of enthusiastic travelers into a silent spectacle.

We crowded beside him, completely filling the aisle where well-to-do men, women, and children sat in booths.

We hadn't yet left the station, and with our bandanas shrouding our faces, any patrol official would investigate the situation. I suppose that was the reason why Rachel muttered and gently nudged for us to keep moving.

But Miranda wasn't having any of it. With her hands blocking our chests, she asked us to wait and furrowed her brows at the pasty man in blue. She told him, "Last I checked, this isn't the south. Jim Crow hasn't infected these parts and I don't think now is the time to act like he did."

"Sir, I'm merely enforcing a rule that's coming from above me. I may not like it any more than you, but if I don't enforce it, my job will be on the line."

"You're lucky there are ladies present. Otherwise, I'd tell you what I think about that excuse." We looked toward the booming voice of a burly man sitting with his wife and two children. The boy and girl have their own window seats while the man and woman share the aisle.

Like her husband, she's expensively dressed and glaring down her pointy nose at the porter.

"Regardless of the rule, there are also hardly any seats left on the train nor will it be a comfortable passage if the seven of you are crammed into your booth," he said, his voice teetering between firm and cowardly as his dark brown eyes note all the passengers scowling at him.

"Like I said, we can go to the cargo truck; It'll be fine." Again, Miranda shakes her head against the idea of us being separated. Especially by something as piffling as race.

"I couldn't save Bre," she muttered over her shoulder to Rachel directly behind her. "I'm not letting the same thing happen here."

Rachel's forehead slowly unraveled. She nodded and took a half step back like a soldier standing in formation.

"The child may sit with us," the woman said, and we turned our heads to her. She was sitting straight with her hands intertwined on her poofy navy-blue skirt. We followed her empty gaze to Annabelle, then back to her as she fanned her over.

Melody ticked at my side, moments from holding Annabelle back. Her mouth fell agape when Annabelle stepped toward the strangers' booth as the woman scooted to her heels in the aisle.

Like she knew them all her life, she greeted them with smiles and simple pleasantries. They collectively complained of the weather, but only the children shared disdain for long travels. The adults seemed to love sitting for hours on end just to admire landmarks.

Melody lowered into the booth seat and watched the lady close Annabelle -- as skinny and frail as a starved child -- in with their kids.

"Herschel Summers -- is that you," someone called out from the throng of passengers eventually returning to their conversations. Miranda craned her neck through our group and when her eyes landed on a boy her age from Dad's country club, I rolled mine onto the table and sat across from Mel.

"As I live and breathe!" She turned to the three adults in our posse and through a toothy grin, said, "I'll go sit with him. You three can take the booth."

Miranda tapped Austin and Rachel's shoulders with her gloved hands and sprung away before neither could object. The adults shared a concerned look that I knew was from fear of us being discovered.

Though Miranda was aware of everything gone awry and the high stakes of us crossdressing and fleeing the state, like the social climber that I'd known her to be, she didn't deny herself the chance to shmooze.

"Again, you're left with only two seats," the porter reminded us, and by that point, Rachel had enough. She flared her nostrils and stepped toward him.

"We can figure it out on our own!"

He shrugged with raised brows and pursed lips, muttering, "Very well." Then he extended his hand in its white glove. The thought of tipping him after his behavior made me laugh, but they were all but amused.

He was cast away with the jab of a finger in the opposite direction and many followed him with their eyes.

It didn't take long for us to figure out who'd sit at the booth and who'd occupy the cargo carriage. Rachel volunteered to monitor our belongings while Austin and Jennifer sat with me and Mel.

Moments after we all found our seats, the train whistle rang out and puffed gray smoke. It irrhythmically clacked and rumbled down the track. The conductor paced the aisle with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Look at that guy, Mel." She did, but her sunken mood didn't shift. Ignoring it, I forced a smile and a chuckle. "He's as stiff as a board. He reminds me of the toy soldiers from The Nutcracker."

"What's that," she asked, and my eyes shot open like they'd pop out of my head.

"You've never seen it?" Melody shook her head, her elbow propped on the windowsill and her curled fingers close to her ear. "It's a little play performed in places in Europe." Jenny and Austin observed us with faint smiles. Lowering my voice, I said, "My dad would take me and Cody during the spring."

His name leaving my mouth felt like a knock to my chest. I couldn't yet describe how deeply I missed him. That alone felt too simple for the erasure of a bond I knew I'd never form with anyone else.

I bowed my head and took a deep breath, twiddling my thumbs on my lap.

"Oh," she muttered, also looking down. "No, my parents could never afford those things."

"Oh." Melody turned to stare at the fog through her window. Despite the thick blanket, we could see Gray Birch as the train passed them. The conductor stepped through the brown door ahead where through the glass, I saw other passengers without monocles or hats with feathers. Blinking at the table, I pushed myself to ask a question that had nagged me since leaving Annabelle's old house. "Why is it that you never speak of your family?"

"They hardly cross my mind without anger following," she said, lacking emotion in her tone. She was hard to read from that alone, but her blank expression didn't help. She looked at me and with her eyes barely open, told me, "Let's just say, my parents abandoned me and I don't plan on forgiving them -- ever."

Melody returned her fixation to the passing scenery, but I stared at her through her reflection in the glass.

"Seems far too certain and permanent for you." When she asked me what that was supposed to mean, I told her, "If Annabelle can forgive you for ruining her life in a way worse than your parents leaving you to be treated, why can't you forgive them?"

She shot upright and startled the table. We collectively sucked in breaths. My tongue pinned itself to the roof of my mouth and I gnashed my teeth as she gave me a dark look.

"The same reason I'll die hating you for letting Cody die." My heart skipped and sank. Austin shushed and chastised her while Jenny glanced around the carriage without turning her head. Their smiles were wiped clean. Narrowing her eyes at me, Melody sharply told me, "How about you focus on your life and stop meddling in mine? And don't call me Mel; we're not friends."

Melody sunk back to the disposition of an animal waiting at death's door. Her face was pale and clammy from what little I could see past her black bandana. She clutched her side and shut her eyes, resting her forehead against the glass as she struggled through heavy breaths.

Finally, her eyes shot open and met mine through my reflection as well. We stared at each other that way for a while longer, our thoughts drowned out by chatter and the rumbling wheels en route to Chicago.