1

"Look out!" I called back to the train passengers as we came around a bend in the track. "There's bandits!"

Nearly a hundred second-graders hollered and squealed as the "bandits" hopped onto the train in a feat of daring acrobatics, firing their cap guns. Of course, the train was only going about five miles per hour, but for the kids, this was always the most exciting part of the trip.

"Hands up, ye varmits!" Carter called out, waving his toy gun at the nearest kids. Their hands shot up, even as they giggled and pointed at him. Carter's costume was about as cliched as a railroad bandit could get, right down to the red neckerchief he was using as a mask.

"This here's a robbery!"

"Oh no!" I called out, staying in character while I worked on the train's controls. "Can anyone save us?"

As if on cue, one of the braver kids rushed forward and karate chopped Carter's hand. Carter played it smooth, crying out in faux-pain and dropping his gun. The kid grabbed it and fired several times, shouting "Bang, bang!" in time with the popping of the caps.

The kids applauded. Carter dropped to his knees and pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, waving it around in the air.

"I surrender!" he cried out. The other bandit dropped his gun and threw his hands into the air, to avoid meeting Carter's cruel fate. The train pulled back up to the museum's rear entrance while the kids were still applauding.

"Okay, passengers," I said, putting the parking brake on and standing up to get their attention. "It's time for lunch, and then we've got a special show all about the history of the railroad. Find your partners, and follow Rebecca. She'll show you to the cafeteria."

The kids started getting off the train, along with the handful of parents who'd come along as chaperones. Their teacher, Mrs. Williams, stood waiting at the door to count heads as the kids walked past her in pairs. The museum always implemented a buddy system for school trips, so that the kids would help keep their partners accountable. It usually worked. Usually. Towards the end of the line, I noticed a little blonde haired girl walking alone. I checked her paper name tag, in the shape of a train, naturally, and saw her name was Chrys.

"Chrys, dear," I said, bending down to meet her at eye level. "Where's your partner?"

She looked away, shy, and tried to walk past me. I followed her and moved in front of her so she had to stop.

"Chrys, I asked you a question," I said, using my calm, patient, yet authoritative voice.

"Are we missing someone?" Mrs. Williams asked. She looked up and down the train, but there was no one still on board.

I crouched down in front of Chrys and touched her arm. "Chrys, sweetie, who was your partner?"

She kept looking away, refusing to make eye contact. But I didn't let her off the hook. Finally, she whispered, "JJ."

"Oh," Mrs. Williams said. "Of course."

I stood up and raised an eyebrow at her. "Does he do this sort of thing a lot?"

She sighed and nodded. "He tends to run off when he's upset. Usually he hides in the woods behind the school. Or wherever else he can squeeze himself into. He's got…family issues at home."

"I'll go find him," I said. "He can't have gone far. The tracks are enclosed, and there's a fence. I know a couple of places he could be hiding."

Mrs. Williams took Chrys by her hand and led her off to the cafeteria with the rest of the kids. I started searching the tracks to find the missing JJ. There were a lot of props in the different settings where a little kid could easily hide. Most of the area was in an old west theme, with a rickety old saloon, a corral filled with plastic horses, and a little farmstead with haystacks and an old barn. There used to be an Indian encampment with tepees, but we'd taken it down after receiving some complaints from a local Native American tribe that it wasn't historically accurate and it reinforced inaccurate stereotypes about their people. There was a mine shaft there now, with an old miner mannequin bent over a stream, panning for gold.

I headed for the mine first, cleaning my glasses on my shirt as I walked. Most of the other buildings were nothing but false fronts, held up by wooden frames around the back. But the mine shaft was the size of a small shed, with wooden planks across the front blocking off the interior. We used the inside for storage of old equipment.

"Hello?" I called out as I opened the entrance. Inside I saw the old tepees and unused Native American mannequins, along with some gardening equipment and tools that the maintenance guys kept out here. And huddled against one of the tepees was a little boy, presumably the infamous JJ.

I crouched down in front of him, keeping my distance. He sat there, watching me, with his knees hugged against his chest.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi." He sniffled. His eyes were a bit red and tearstains marked his cheeks.

"Are you JJ?"

He nodded.

"You know its lunch time?" I smiled, hoping to coax him out without having to get tough on him. "Are you hungry?"

He looked away, staring at the wall, but he nodded.

"Do you want to come with me? I can bring you to the cafeteria. We've got really good hot dogs."

He shook his head.

I sighed and tried to think of a new approach. I'd had enough experience with emotional kids working at the museum that I knew sometimes you couldn't push them. "Was someone picking on you? If they were, you can tell me."

He shook his head again. I wasn't that surprised. Lots of times kids were afraid to be a snitch. It usually led to them getting in more trouble with the bullies later on.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "I'm not allowed to bring food out here, or I'll get in trouble. But if you don't want to sit in the cafeteria with the other kids, you can come to the special museum lunch room where only the employees are allowed to go. You can get some hot dogs there. How does that sound?"

He nodded, then wiped his eyes with his sleeve. I got up and walked over to him, offering him my hand. He took it and I helped him up. Now that I could get a better look at him, I noticed he was a little chubby. I knew what that was like. I'd been teased for my lack of weight plenty of times as a kid. And a few times as an adult, even. Bean pole, stripper pole ... even my own mother refered to me as 'streak of piss' when I was in the room, her look of shock telling me it was what she normally called me behind my back.

I led him inside and took him to the employee break room. I sent Carter to go fetch Mrs. Williams and tell her the wayward child had been found. I brought JJ a soda, a hot dog and a little bag of chips. When Mrs. Williams arrived, I stood off to the side, letting her talk to him. My job was just to give the kids a tour of the Brandenburg Railroad Museum. Taking care of disciplinary issues was their teacher's job. Since moving back here to American I found myself trying to distance myself more, Wales was a distant memory so … working. Right?

They spoke quietly at first, but then JJ started saying "No" over and over again to everything Mrs. Williams said.

Then he slammed his hands down on the table and said, "I want to go home! I want my dad."

Mrs. Williams sighed and said, "I can call your mother to come pick you up."

"No, not Mom," JJ said. "I want Dad."

"But your mother—"

"No!" JJ got up and ran into the corner, hiding under a table.

Mrs. Williams walked over to me, crossing her arms.

"Separated parents," she said.

"Ahh. The mom has custody?"

She nodded. "His father is still listed as authorized to pick him up, but I've spoken to his mother a few times, and she doesn't want JJ going to his father's place except on his visitation weekends. I'm not sure what to do."

I wasn't sure what to suggest. I felt bad for the kid. I'd been in his shoes more than once in my childhood. There was this one mean little girl who used to call me "Big Butt." To this day, I heard her voice when I looked at my behind in the mirror. It had always been far curvier than I would have liked, even if I had grown more comfortable with my body as I got older. Thin with child bearing hips ... not that good on a man.

"He can stay here if he doesn't want to join the other kids," I said. "And I've got some activity books I can give him to keep him occupied."

"That might be best," Mrs. Williams said. "If you'll excuse me, I have some calls to make."

I eventually coaxed JJ out from under the table. I brought him some railroad-themed colouring and activity books and a box of crayons. I sat with him and coloured as well, to give him the sense that he wasn't alone.

I was putting the finishing touches on a rainbow coloured locomotive when Mrs. Williams returned.

"Well," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "Looks like you're in luck, JJ. Your mom is in a meeting and is going to be out late. She said it was okay for your dad to come get you. He's on his way."

JJ didn't answer, but I saw the tension fade from his posture. I could only wonder what was going on between his parents that made him hold such anxiety about the thought of being picked up by his mom. I hoped it wasn't an abusive situation. Though he didn't show any signs of having been physically harmed. More likely, I figured, Dad was just the lenient parent and Mom was the strict one.

It was more than an hour before JJ's dad made it to the museum. Though I was sure that was mostly because we were located in Western Pennsylvania, a good distance from Philadelphia and most of its surrounding suburbs. Most of the school groups that came to the museum took the bus in from an hour or more away. The rest of our guests tended to be families on vacations. We weren't far from Lancaster, which was right smack in the middle of Amish country. A lot of people either came out this way for trips to see the rustic countryside, or stopped by on road trips on their way further west. I was born in Wales but my family moved here when I was still in school, I was sent back to boarding school in Wales, did my university there as well, now thinking of both Wales and America as home. It was a peaceful place for someone like me with a restless mind.

The rest of the kids were finishing up the tour, and about to get on their buses to head back home, when JJ's dad walked in the door.

He was tall and fairly well-built. He definitely looked comfortable with himself. He was dressed in simple jeans and a blue striped button-down shirt. I wondered whether he had come in from work, and if so, what kind of place he worked in where he could dress so casually.

He walked across the lobby, looking around at the tables filled with model trains driving around miniature models of Brandenburg. "Hi," he said. "I'm Jack Harkness. I'm here to pick up my son, JJ."

"Hi," I said, extending my hand. He shook it, and I noticed his grip was firm, yet soft. "He's been hanging out in the employee break room. He was upset earlier, but he's

doing fine now."

"Do you know what happened? His teacher wasn't too clear on the phone."

"I think it was some bullies," I said. "He didn't want to talk about it, but it was pretty clear he wanted to keep away from the other kids. Which is a shame. He missed some of the best parts of the tour."

He sighed and shook his head. "Thanks for your help. We've been…well, we've been going through a lot lately."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. My parents had divorced when I wasn't much older than JJ hence the dual countires, so I had an idea what he might be going through. Though it was a bit harder for me to understand what his dad might be dealing with. I didn't have any kids, even though I'd once thought I'd be married and have two kids by the time I was thirty. I'd passed that benchmark a couple of years ago without accomplishing that goal.

Back to Wales and what I have left behind in the dust. Lisa. Bitch.

I led him into the break room, where JJ was reading one of our gift shop books about railroad history. I noticed he had picked one of the more advanced books, one written at an adult reading level. I wondered if he always read at such an advanced level.

"JJ," I said, "your dad is here."

He looked up at his dad. "Hey."

"Hey, Jay." Jack walked over and gave JJ a hug. "You ready to head home?"

JJ looked up at me. "I didn't get to see the big trains."

I smiled at him to show it was okay. "You can come back another time. The trains aren't going anywhere."

Our biggest exhibit was the Hall of Locomotives, where we had half a dozen real trains on display, from old 1800s coal-powered trains to modern electrical ones. The kids always loved climbing all over them, tooting the horns, and playing with the controls. And that was in addition to the Virtual Train Ride, where kids could operate the controls on a locomotive simulator, basically a realistic video game that let them experience what it was like to drive a real train. It even rumbled and shook while the screen showed a first-person view of the train racing down the tracks.

"Are you guys open on the weekend?" Jack asked.

"Yup," I said. "We're open every day except Monday. And we close on bank holidays."

"How's that sound, kiddo?" Jack asked. "We'll come back this weekend, just the two of us. I'm sure the nice man…" He looked at me, making a questioning gesture.

"Ianto," I said.

"I'm sure Ianto will be happy to show you everything. Sound good?"

"Yeah," JJ said. They headed for the door, but Jack stopped and whispered something in JJ's ear. JJ turned to me and said, "Thank you. Sorry I was a pain."

"You're welcome. And you were no pain at all." Just before they stepped out, a thought occurred to me.

"Oh, here." I grabbed the book JJ had been reading and brought it over to him. "On the house. You want to see how it ends, right?"

JJ grinned and clutched the book to his chest. "Thanks."

"Thank you," Jack said. "We'll see you this weekend."

The other kids were already getting on the bus to go home. Jack stopped and talked to Mrs. Williams for a few minutes, then took JJ to his car. I watched them drive off, then turned to find Carter waiting for me with a pair of brooms.

"You know what time it is," he said.

"Yay!" I said with exaggerated enthusiasm. "My favourite part of working in a museum. Cleaning up after little kids."

"Oh, come on," Carter said, taking off his cowboy hat and bandana as we headed for the cafeteria. "Isn't this what you were hoping for when you got your art degree?"

I laughed and shook my head. Carter and I both had our master's degrees. I'd actually been a triple-major for undergrad: art, history, and the German language. I'd gotten an internship at the railroad museum upon hitting American soil, and had turned it into a full-time job. My main work was as assistant curator, organizing the displays and helping with new acquisitions. No one had told me when I was hired that I'd also be serving as tour guide.

And maid.

Carter and I joined the cafeteria crew and started sweeping up the mess the kids had left. The museum was understaffed, with only one full-time janitor on the payroll. He usually had his hands full with the bigger tasks, like polishing the brass fixtures on the displays, waxing the floors, and cleaning the floor-to ceiling windows that spanned the length of the lobby and several other rooms. Until the museum could afford to hire an assistant janitor, little tasks like sweeping the cafeteria and cleaning the bathrooms fell on Carter and me.

I set about the mundane task, thinking to myself that this was what a master's degree in art got you, and wondering how little JJ was doing. I found myself looking forward to seeing him and his dad this weekend. Though I still had to wonder just what had happened on the train ride that had upset him so much.

Kids can be so cruel.