I've really been thinking about the most minor characters in The Outsiders a lot these days... The ones that don't even have a name, and have about one line each. XD

This'll probably turn out as a series of short one-shots. Here's the first one... Try to guess who's POV it's in!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Enjoy! :)

I yawned, walking mechanically out of my old truck and towards the train station. Late-night shifts were the worst.

Tom hadn't been able to make it in tonight--- He had some kind of flu, according to a phone call from his worried wife. Guess who the lucky guy was that had to fill in for him? That's right... Me.

The boss didn't take any excuses. You're tired? Miserable? Half-dead? Who cares? You can still work, right?

Don't you dare say no.

He had told me flatly that if I didn't get to the station at 3:00 sharp, I'd lose my job. I hated him so much at the moment that he could turn up dead tomorrow and I'd laugh at his funeral.

"Yeah. Right," I muttered sarcastically to nobody in particular. I couldn't even lie to myself properly. If Boss really died, I knew I'd cry at his funeral. I was too much of a softie for my own good. The guys at work knew this as well as I did, and they always took every chance they could get to laugh about it.

I hated that about myself.

"Hey James."

I mumbled a greeting, not caring enough to even look up at whoever it was.

"You ain't looking happy tonight, are ya?"

I glared up at him, ready to say something resembling, "Nobody's happy when they suddenly gotta work in the dead of the night."

I bit back my words as I saw who it was.

"Oh, Roger. I didn't notice it was you. Sorry 'bout that," I grinned for the first time today. Roger had been my buddy since we were kids. I couldn't believe I hadn't recognised his voice.

"No problem," he reassured. "Come on, the freight to Windrixville's gonna be here any moment now. We don't wanna let Boss catch us standing around talking like two bumps on a log. You know how his eyes are sharper than an eagle's."

He had barely finished his sentence when a loud, familiar whistle announced the arrival of another train.

Our jobs both centered on checking the freight trains for minor problems as they arrived at our stop, then fixing them as quickly as humanly possible. Some days were a lot easier than others... I hoped today was going to be one of those days.

We met a couple other workers right beside the train, already beginning their routine inspection. A few of them nodded to me as a greeting, and then continued with their job silently.

I walked to the very end of the train, looking around for any of the telltale signs I'd been trained to pay attention to.

Suddenly, I heard a someone whisper a single word behind me, followed quickly by a loud rustle. I didn't turn around or acknowledge the sounds in any way, but I knew that something was up.

As nonchalantly as possible, I turned around and strolled towards the noise, whistling like I didn't have a care in the world. I had a very brief glance of two fairly small faces in the last open boxcar when I looked around in it, and I suppressed a smirk. So there were gonna be a couple of young passengers on this train, eh?

"What are you doing, James?"

I whirled around, startled. Roger was looking at me with a confused expression. I had been so preoccupied with the little hitchhikers that I hadn't noticed him coming up behind me.

"Hey... Do you hear that?" He whispered, this time looking past me towards the last boxcar. "I think there's something in there, moving."

I chuckled nervously. For some unknown reason, I wanted to protect the two hiding kids. My soft side acting up again...

"Nah, I didn't hear anything. You must be really tired, Roger. You're hearing things. Why don't you go take a break? I'll cover for you for a few minutes."

He shrugged, grinned, and left to chat with a couple of the other workers.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever the kids in there wanted to do, I just hoped it wouldn't be anything illegal. I didn't think they were too experienced with hopping trains... After all, I'd heard and seen them very easily. I took this as a sign that they weren't all bad.

If they robbed a bank or killed someone... It would be your fault too. You would be responsible for letting them get away, a nasty voice inside my head said.

I shook it off, and walked back to the other end of the train. They were from the poorer side of town, I was sure of it. Those East-side kids always got the rougher deal. They deserved a break every now and then.

I sighed as I watched the train start up again. I didn't have much to offer them, really. Nothing but a free ride to Windrixville and a couple of unsaid words...

Good luck.

How was that? Please review! Also: I'm sorry if I made any mistakes in how a railroad/train station worker would do their job. Feel free to correct me...