The Modelers – Ch. 4

The train ride halfway across the country was relatively uneventful. Relatively.

Parts of the country he’d never seen in person before, including the black and gray monstrosity of the seaboard arcology, like a vast metal insect settled and ready to lay eggs over the east coast, flew before his eyes in a blur of green and gray. It seemed the whole world was enveloped in a blanket of gray, cold and drear weather. Fitting for his mood, he supposed.

Looking out the window at the smeared landscape, he thought silently to himself of Denny’s send-off.

Patty and Doyle had said their goodbyes from the car; Denny, being the true friend she was, had walked him to the train.  There, by the entrance with the porter watching over them, Denny had looked up into his eyes with her own shimmering, ready to spill over, and gently took both of his hands in hers.

“I’ll miss you,” she said, the pain in her eyes evident. Before he could say anything, offer a word of consolation much less stop her, she turned around and walked, then ran, away.

There, in the train, tears came unexpectedly. For a while, he just stared out the window and let them come. He needed this. He needed to cry, to release all the shame and anguish he felt. He knew, in his head, he knew that he was heading toward a new life this very instant. And that was good, maybe even a great thing. But his heart wished the new life could include the one good thing about his past life.

Eventually, the tears dried up, caking his cheeks with salty tracks.  Bowing his head, Tom stared at his boots and wiped the tears from his cheeks. When he looked up, an angel stared back at him.

Completely baffled, Tom simply stared at her for a few moments, not quite comprehending her presence, whether she was real or an apparition.  But when she finally spoke, he was awoken to the present situation and was shot through with utter fear.

“Hi,” the angelic blonde said, seeming to smile with her whole body, bright blue eyes twinkling.

Tom, having come to his senses, was completely incapacitated with terror.  In response, he muttered something unintelligible and stared at his feet.

“Hi,” the blonde repeated.  Tom forced himself to lift his head – which was feeling extraordinarliy heavy at this point – and meet her gaze.

“Hey,” he said, smiling weakly.

The blonde reached out with one (perfect) hand, said in a chipper, clipped voice, “I’m Anastasia.”

“Tom,” he said, pointing to himself. Clumsily, he took he hand and shook it. Her palm was cool and chalky compared to his, which was hot and clammy.

“So,” she said lightly, sitting down across from him, “where’s the ultimate destination?  I mean…ultimate in the final sense.  Sorry,” she half-smiled, rolling her eyes at herself, “word nerd.”

Maybe it was her tone that calmed him, maybe it was her uttering the one word that immediately forged a point of identification between the two of them – whatever it was, Tom relaxed in his seat, allowed himself a small smile that he actually felt, something that hadn’t happened yet today.

“I knew what you meant,” Tom said.  “I’m probably what you’d call the uber-nerd.”

“Well, his Lord-ship of nerds,” Anastasia said, dipping her head slightly, “I obviously bow to your most supreme judgment, but it it seems we were destined to meet on what I had assumed, wrongly, to be a solitary cross-country journey. Do you not agree?”

“I’d say you certainly picked the right seat,” Tom said, enjoying himself.  “And in response to the question that you managed to cloak in a thousand ensuing words, I’d have to say my ultimate destination is a point of  little interest.”

“Oh, come now. No destination can be all that bad, can it? Wait, let me guess.  It has to be tiny, right?”

Tom nodded.

“So small as to be idyllic, or so small as to be completely bereft of life?” she asked.

Tom gave it some thought.  Really, he didn’t know much about his destination other than the population, which was just under a million souls.

“I don’t know that size is the deciding factor here.  Maybe just the fact that it’s an unassuming location.  There’s nothing terribly fascinating about it.  Just another town in the flatlands.  I doubt you’ve heard of it.”

“Ooh, now you’ve piqued my curiosity, Tom,” she said excitedly.  “But instead of guessing which small town you’re headed to, you’re going to tell me.”

“Is that right”" Tom said, feigning shock.

“Thomas,” Anastasia began, adopting a serious, stern expression. “Since we barely know each other, I feel it incumbent upon myself to state very clearly that I can be very, very persuasive should the need arise.”

I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re still playing, Tom thought, looking at her. He decided not to find out.

“Fine,” he relented.  “It’s a small town called Lawrence.  They have this program for kids like me-”

“Where, Tom?” Anastasia asked excitedly.  Apparently the stern character was just that – a character.

“I – I just told you.  A town called Lawr-”

“No, no, you only need to tell me once for me to remember, Tom.  I meant to say ‘where, specifically’?”

Tom looked at her with genuine surprise. She’s getting really worked up about this.  Weird, he thought.

“Kansas?” Tom said, the word coming out more like a question than an answer.

“No!” Anastasia practically yelled.

“Yes,” Tom said, finding her excitement infectious.

“Tom!” she yelled in half exasperation and half excitement.  “That’s where I’m going!  How cool is that?”

The words hit Tom like a slap to the face – albeit a rather pleasing slap to the face.  He sat straight up in his chair, as though his spine were a rope and someone had yanked it on both ends.

“Wow,” he muttered.  “That’s…weird.”

“Uncanny,” she agreed.  A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her blue eyes twinkling.  More than just a smile, it almost seemed like a promise.  Whoa boy, this one could wrangle a blind man with that smile, Tom thought, but still…something inside tugged for possession of his consciousness.

“So, what are you majoring in?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know.  It’s still pretty early.  I mean, tomorrow’s my first day.  Transferring in the middle of the school year.”

Anastasia furrowed her brow, regarding him with confusion.

“Wait, where did you say you were heading?”

“Lawrence, Kans-”

“Yes, I heard that much,” she interrupted curtly. “But beyond that…what school?”  Her eyes, in the span of an instant, went from being genial and inviting to cold, hard, distant.

“M-midwest polytechnic prep-” Tom sputtered, damning himself inside for being such a clutz.

A moment of tense silence passed as Anastasia’s hard eyes seemed to probe Tom’s face for some sort of fault.

Then the muscles around her eyes relaxed and she cocked her head to the side, smiling at him curiously once more.  Tom let out an audible sigh of relief.  Somehow, in the span of just a few minutes, this girl had managed to cast a spell over him.  While he a small, reasonable part of him was aware of that fact, the majority of him was absolutely captivated.

“You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “you look older for your age.”

Tom flushed, not knowing what to say.

“I’m not saying that just to flatter you, Tom,” Anastasia said, a bare honesty in her voice he hadn’t heard yet.  “You do, you know.  Maybe it’s not necessarily just the way you look, but you have this aura of maturity.  Experience.  It’s nice.”

Yes, it is nice, Tom agreed, wits totally and completely befuddled.  The only person who had ever flattered him before was Denny, and that was for his intellect, not his looks, much less his “mature aura”.  It felt really, really good.

“Well I myself am headed back to KU – went back home for Thanskgiving weekend.  I’m just a freshman.  But,” she said, winking at him, “I know exactly what I want.  Kinda like you, right?” At the mention of KU, something inside Tom deflated a little.  She’s in college.  Figures.

“I guess,” Tom said, not really agreeing.

“Well, you’re leaving high school to go to a prep school, one that’s highly focused and really well-regarded, right?”

“I suppose so,” Tom said, brightening to her perspective.

“I, myself, am majoring in fine art and minoring in communications.  Don’t know exactly where that’ll take me, but somewhere good, I expect.”

“Hey, before I forget,” she went on, “we need to exchange contact info.  Don’t want to lose touch.” She winked at him, and he was completely undone.

Over the course of the next four hours, Tom fell in love.  Had she not been female – and beautiful – the warning sirens would’ve been blaring. But, unfortunately for Tom, she was all those things and more.  In the case of a lonely teenage boy, it was all that was needed to disable his internal machinery of self-preservation.

As it stood, he was headed toward disaster, and the first day of his new life had barely begun.