The Train Depot

The weather outside the depot has finally warmed a few degrees, so you put on your coat and walk towards a bench.

The snow, white like a straightjacket, crunches beneath your shoes. You sit down, the cold iron of the bench bleeding through your coat.

There's a boy leaning against a column, looking too much like James Dean in his brown leather jacket. He's listening to an iPod and even from this distance you can tell his eyes are beautiful -- dark and lined with thick lashes. His gaze shifts. He sees you looking at him and he smirks.

You avert your eyes, pulling your coat around you a little tighter. You've been at an all-girls school too long.

The street is fairly crowded with people and cars. New arrivals, departures load and unload with almost machine-like precision. A rent-a-cop security guard ensures no one stay longer in a loading zone than necessary. If a car is stagnant he approaches it and tells them to circle around and get in line again.

You're waiting. Your mother and her new husband are late to get you. You're irritated. Never in your life has she been late getting you.

She always said, "Men are the devil, not a solution."

What happened to that mother? Apparently she's been replaced by a lovesick cliché who turned out to be just as desperate as every other almost middle-aged divorced female.

You want to disappoint her like she's disappointed you. What's sad is you don't have the guts. Besides, the only thing worse than having your friend, hero, role model disappoint you is disappointing yourself. You rather like the inkling of self-righteous superiority that looks back at you in the mirror.

See? You can't even have a decent revenge fantasy without your brain stopping you.

You hear the gentle thud of feet meeting snow and you look up. The boy with the jacket is walking towards you, the sun forming a halo around his chestnut hair.

"Casey?" he asks you.

You blink. "Yes?"

He smiles, a knowing smile. "I'm Derek. You're new stepbrother."

Your lower lip parts from your upper lip, leaving your mouth hanging open.

He said that last word with a mischevious glint and you don't know what to say. You almost laugh but you see your mother coming around the corner, waving excitedly, saying something about parking.

You indulge yourself in a fleeting thought of lying face down on the train tracks.

Mother pulls you into a hug and you stiffen. She doesn't notice, just keeps talking, "How was your trip? Derek grab her bags, will you?"

Your body is on autopilot, following them to a grey Mercedes. A man with chestnut hair and graying temples is in the driver's seat.

You walk around to the passenger side, careful not to slip on the black ice.

IPod boy looks at you and winks.

You try not to smile but can feel a small grin creeping onto your face anyway.

You shake your head and stare out the window as the depot disappears from sight.