It was field trip day at Grand Central Station. Matt Jensen, smiled at the group of elementary schoolers and told them about the history of the station. It wasn't hard to keep the kids interested. Most of them were at an age when trains of any kind were exciting.

But, he had to leave out some of the more interesting stories, like how the deaths of people waiting for trolleys that never came during the blizzard of 1888 had finally broken through the legal bottleneck that had kept work on the subway system from even starting. He also wouldn't tell them any of the old legends about the subway tunnels, like the monsters that supposedly prowled down there or the people who had moved into the tunnels and caves and started up their own, hidden city underground. He definitely wasn't going to tell them about the Astor Place ghost train.

As he wound down his ghost-free presentation, he asked if there were any questions. A few hands went up, followed by the usual. Did he get to drive the trains? Well, who did get to drive them? Were any of the trains his?

There was one little girl who had a different question, however.

"What about the Northeast Corridor Line?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Matt said.

"The Northeast Corridor Line. It goes to Boston. Where does it stop?"

"Oh, the interstate trains. Those aren't here."

The girl looked outraged. "They're not?"

"They're at Penn Station. But—" He waved towards the stairs leading down a level. "—you can get there on the subway. Any more questions?"

There were, lots of them. Matt soon forgot about the little girl. New York being New York, three days had gone by before the police came by to ask about it and, by then, it was too late.

X

Emma slipped the little, metal counter back into the teacher's pocket. The truth was, she wasn't a very good pickpocket. If there weren't kids bumping into the teacher all the time, she never would have gotten away with it.

It had only been a few days since Emma had been sent to the group home in New York, and she'd barely gotten the permission slip in time to come. But, nothing was going to stop her. She knew all about trains. One of the boys at the last home she'd been in never stopped talking about them. Because he was much bigger than any of the mean kids at the home, nobody ever bothered him—or anybody standing near him. Emma knew about something called a golden spike that held all the railroads together and Japanese bullet trains (because they were fast as a bullet) and the railroad museum at Cranberry Junction where you could see old trains and cranberries.

When she'd asked, he'd also told her how to get to Maine on a train. You took the Northeast Corridor Line to Boston. Then, you switched to the Downeaster to get to Brunswick. Emma wasn't sure how you got from Brunswick to Collinsport, but they weren't that far apart on the map. Maybe there was a bus or something. What Emma did know was that she had been found as a baby near a diner called The Blue Whale, just outside of Collinsport.

That meant, if she had any family, that's where she'd find them. All she had to do was get there.

The teacher was nearly as new as Emma. The old one had been transferred to another school. This teacher was still getting everyone's name wrong.

Emma knew about grownups like her. Without the counter, she wouldn't know how many kids were supposed to get back on the bus. Emma looked at the number on it, nineteen. She set it back to zero, then hit the button till it read eighteen.

She was worried when she couldn't see any signs or anything saying where the Notheast Corridor was supposed to be. Asking while the teacher was listening would be dumb, but Emma showed Shelly Schlossmacher the candy bar she'd brought with her (always have a stash of food, especially before long trips, that was one of the lessons Emma had learned) and said she'd give it to her if she distracted the teacher while Emma asked her question.

So, while Shelly was telling the teacher she needed to go potty right now, Emma was finding out she was at the completely wrong place if she wanted to get to Maine. She didn't scream or get upset, even if it wasn't easy. Instead, she stayed calm (she was really proud of herself for staying calm, because screaming seemed like a great idea) and asked how to get to Penn Station.

Emma slipped Shelly the candy bar. Then, while the teacher was herding everyone else back to the bus, Emma slipped away and went down the stairs. A train pulled in just as Emma got there. A family hurried past her.

". . . can't wait till we're back in Maine," the father said.

"Rumple, where's your sense of adventure?" the mother asked.

Maine, Emma thought. This is it.

She hurried onto the train after them, giving up one of her precious subway tokens (Emma wasn't sure how many tokens it took to get to Maine but she thought she had enough).

It was fancier inside than she'd expected. It looked more like a living room—a really fancy, rich person's living room—than any subway car or bus Emma had ever seen. There was even an old fashioned, iron stove burning in the corner.

Is that even safe? Emma wondered.

Emma tried to figure out where to sit. She'd thought she'd just be grabbing a seat, but these were all sofas and overstuffed chairs. There wasn't anywhere she could sit by herself.

Also, the rest of the people looked . . . kind of strange. Their clothes were all sort of weird and kind of old-fashioned. Also, all of them looked really pale.

Maybe they worked the night shift?

Trying to look like she wasn't scared and she knew exactly what she was doing, Emma took a seat sort of near the family, not so close that they'd think she was trying to sit by them (and notice she didn't have a family) but near enough anyone else might think she was with them (she hoped).

The train started up. The parents were deep in conversation about school, normal parent stuff (Emma might not have parents, but she knew normal when she saw it). Emma looked at their son. He was really big—maybe two or three years older than her—with a scar on his forehead (not a fight-scar or a got-hit-by-something-somebody-threw-at-you scar, so nothing important).

Then, the light in the train changed. It turned a strange, sickly green. The father's hair began to curl, and he was covered with gold-green scales.

X

For some reason, when the police finished talking to Matt Jensen, he couldn't shake the feeling that really should have warned that girl about the ghost train.