I've never ridden a train by myself before today.

Actually, I never had a reason to be on a train. The thought of ever getting on one would usually cause anxiety to spike up my spine in a cold, horrible chill that would freeze me to my spot at I had anywhere to go, I'd walk. Or my mom would drive me. If it was school, I'd take a bus. Ultimately, I'd simply stay in my bedroom where it was safe.

This is a whole new ballgame for me, and my body doesn't know how to react.

My foot taps the floor in a rapid-fire rhythm and my leg shakes, bouncing the map settled on my knee around. I force myself to take in deep breaths to slow it all down, but my heart and mind are one, racing alongside the grassy hills and dark strings of forests teeming with tall pine trees outside the window.

Is it possible I could die here? That cat in the sweater vest over in the corner doesn't seem to notice me trying to keep my cool. He stares out the window, mesmerized by the endless tunnel passing by before him. Not even my ever-tapping foot can pull him out of his daydream. Maybe it's not as bad as I'm thinking. Am I overreacting? This is fine, right? It's fine. I'm fine. This is fine.

I think I might die, actually.

Every part of me screams to go home, that I don't belong here. I'm much better off at home in bed with my video games. But it isn't like I can just walk off a moving train; anyone with half a mind knows that's more hazardous than sitting here.

With a sigh that doesn't really help settle my frayed nerves, I try to halt my bouncing leg enough to sift through the papers on my lap. Maybe a distraction will help, because watching the world outside pass by sure isn't. I just want my mind to stop running, even if it's for a freakin' second.

The paper on top is an unofficial map of the final destination, scribbled with houses and names and little landmarks I haven't seen in so long I can't remember if they're supposed to mean something to me. Blue marker separates the landmass - I guess that's the lake. It's hand-made on a piece of printer paper, tossed together with Sharpie and tape.

It's thoughtful. I haven't been there in so long, and even though it's a small place, I'm sure a lot's changed. Nook's Cranny, the Able Sisters, and the museum are nowhere to be found, and I don't imagine that getting lost trying to find them would be a very fun way to spend my 'vacation.'

I hope a lot's changed. Six years is a long time. I don't recognize any of the names on here besides one, so that's a good sign. There has to have been a good reason he burned so much time here and not at home with me and mom, and I can forgive his absence if all those years were spent building a bustling community of. . . five people.

Beneath the map is an envelope with my name written on it in cursive that's far too nice to be his. It's all swoopy and perfect, written with one of those ridiculously expensive fountain pens. This was so not directly from him.

The seal is broken, torn to pieces by impatient fingernails, but I'm not the one that did that. My fingernails are blunt, and my mom's the only person who gets manicures on the regular. She opened my bedroom door one day, tossed the letter (already opened) onto my desk, and said with her arms crossed, " You're going. "

I couldn't ask where exactly I was going before I had to pack almost all of my belongings and get on the first train out of the city. I had the taste of a peaceful summer after finishing my second year of high school right on the tip of my tongue, and now it's gone. I guess it could still be peaceful, but it's not going to taste the same. What once was sweet dissolved into bitterness. Thanks, mom.

It isn't that I hate him or this town. It's just not my preferred way of spending my summer. I mean, who wants to spend three entire months with a person that's barely said a word to them since they were ten in the middle of Nowheresville surrounded by people they don't know? I sure don't.

I don't know. I should be grateful he reached out. He only ever talks to me on birthdays and the odd holiday. It's usually just 'Hey, kiddo, I haven't completely forgotten about you, I'm just so busy with my cool new life and my cool new town and my cool new friends that you're pretty much the last thing I think about when I go to sleep at night, but happy birthday! Uh . . . how old are you now?'

Ugh. Does the train station in town sell tickets? I was shoved on here with a one-way, but I'm not spending more time there than I have to. Should I start making an escape plan? Just hang out in the train station until the next one comes?

. . . No. I can't do that. He's going to be waiting for me. Mom said he'd be waiting for me, because that's what the letter said.

Because he totally lives up to his promises.

Still, no matter how much my entire system buzzes with the urgent need to get out of here as fast as I can, I can't leave. I'm going to be stuck here for the summer whether I want it or not. I definitely don't want it, but on the same token, I don't want to disappoint him. He's disappointed me the majority of my life, but what kind of person would I be if I did the same thing as some sort of weird revenge scheme? Besides, he asked me to come here, even if he didn't write that letter.

Tilting my head towards the window, I watch the gray whir of the tunnel whiz by. The concrete skyline of the city is far behind me now, and all that's ahead are evergreen fields and forests. Fruit trees dotted with juicy bright red apples, oaks, and cedars replace the skyscrapers, and lush green grass takes the place of the hairline cracked sidewalks. The cornflower blue sky is brighter out here, too. Back in the city, there were always clouds, always smoke fogging up any of the natural light. I can't deny the longing to get out and take the deepest breath I can possibly manage; I can guarantee the air is cleaner too. Breathing the fresh air here would be like having my lungs washed out with soap.

So, it isn't all bad. At least I'll be out in nature, away from the pollution and noise.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe deep. It isn't all bad. I'm going to be fine. This will be fine.

The overhead speaker crackles, and my stomach twists itself into a knot so harsh I'm not going to be able to untie it. " Now arriving in Fernbay! " the engineer announces. " Fernbay Station! "

Oh, boy. This is it. The final countdown.

I make sure my papers are in order, even if they aren't important, and tug my pink suitcase closer to me. This shouldn't make nervousness creep through my system as much as it is, but something within me is coiling, winding, ready to explode at any moment. Is it just because of how long it's been? Or is one of my premonitions finally right?

Whatever it is, I'm not going to have the time to act on it, because it isn't long before the illuminating daylight streams ahead through the windows. It's blinding; a stark contrast to the dim lights and the flickering fluorescents hanging above me.

The town's decorated the same as the woods we've been passing through these past two hours. Trees, more trees, some grass thrown in there for good measure. The only difference is that there are houses and fencing scattered along the train tracks - the vague notion that people actually live here and it isn't just a random spot in the middle of the woods people escape to to get away from their everyday lives. I don't know who would live out here, but I guess it's a 'to each their own' type of deal.

Is he going to be waiting for me outside of the station? The thought of getting off the train and being surrounded by nothing but wilderness with no one to guide me makes me want to stay glued to my seat. I don't care where this train goes; I'll just sit until they kick me out. And then I'll find the nearest payphone and ask my mom what on earth she was thinking when she exiled me to this fate.

I can't imagine him waiting for me. I can hardly see his face in the fuzzy inner workings of my mind grinning at me and helping me carry my suitcase to his house. My imagination has never worked well; it's usually just a black space where all the pictures should be, but I can't conjure up the hazy image of what he should look like. He's a mystery to me, a stranger. I wonder if I'm the same to him, or if he thinks that I'm going to look the way I did when I was ten.

The ear-splitting screech of the train sliding to a halt in the town's station tells me that if I had a plan to get out of here, then I better speak now or forever hold my peace.

I really could just sit here and take the train to the next town, but . . . is there a next town? Or is this the end of the line, and this thing's heading right back to the city? It'd be funny to see the look on my mom's face when she sees me waltz right back into our apartment, but that hilarity would be cut short when she decides to strangle me and take away more than just my summer vacation.

Yeah. Guess I'm doing this.

Sucking in the deepest breath I can manage, I take one last look-over to make sure I have all my belongings, and slide out of the sticky blue seat that I almost was actually glued to. The material sharply pulls at the skin of my thighs, begging me to stay put. Go home. Leave this all behind.

The first step I take into the aisle makes my head spin; not even that deep breath can save me. I stood up too fast and now the floor sways beneath me, and gosh I hope I don't trip. There's only, like, one person here - the cat - but that'd be embarrassing, and the last thing I need right now is to bust my face on the wooden floor.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take the final step towards the doors and wait for them to slide open. I hope I don't vomit. There's no reason for me to be as anxious as I am. This summer totally went to blows the moment that letter showed up. I'm probably going to spend all day in his guest bedroom praying for it to be over, so why is my stomach threatening to give back the bagel I ate for breakfast!?

A sharp-clawed paw tightens itself around my wrist, jolting me out of my deep breathing session. A sound that's not quite a yelp but not a quiet gasp either rips from my throat, and I whirl around, ready to absolutely deck whoever decided that was a good idea! I'm not the toughest cookie on the block, but it doesn't mean I won't defend myself if I have to.

With my heart threatening to tear itself from my chest, I come face-to-face with the cat who was staring out the window the entire ride. Gosh, he's creepy, with those slitted red eyes and that blank, soulless grin. Maybe I should have punched him. A glance over at the driver's compartment tells me that the monkey conductor isn't paying too much attention; he's just waiting for us to get off so he can move on. I'm alone in this.

He stares down at me for far too long and leans down to get a better look. If this is my escort to town or something, he needs to be fired. He's a real testament to how good this place is.

"Can I help you?" I ask, and then inwardly cringe at how weak my voice sounds. I wanted to be tough, instead I got 'Girl Scout trying to sound cute and innocent to sell more cookies.'

He says nothing for another excruciatingly lengthy moment, analyzing me the way I analyze the problems on my confusing-as-all-can-be math homework. His eyes are horrifying. Like snake eyes.

I decide to press further, because there's no way my last memory alive is going to be standing in the middle of a train. "Dude, can I help you?"

He shakes his head with a smirk and pulls back. "Hm, no. Just thought you looked familiar. My apologies." With that, he turns around with the smooth confidence of a businessman, tail swishing and shoulders back.

Shaking the shivering running up my spine, I pry my eyes away. Living in the city, creeps like him aren't strangers to me. They're not friends, but I know them when I see them. "Alright."

"Fernbay is lovely this time of year," the cat muses as I struggle to pull my suitcase over the step. I almost ask if it's so lovely, then why he's going back to his seat, but when I look up, he's looking at me with that weird smirk. "Good luck, kid."

My brows furrow. Something about this isn't right, but I don't have the time to ask. The less said about this situation, the better. ". . . Thanks?"

I don't stick around to find out what he's going to say next.

The doors to the train slide shut, and he's left behind along with the city I won't see for the next three months. All I can do now is look ahead at the empty, gray train station in front of me. It's eighty degrees, but there's a chill in here that makes me wish I wore a jacket.

"This stop is Fernbay!" a voice with the bravado of a television spokesperson announces. "Everyone for Fernbay, exit here! Eek eek!"

"Oh, hey, Porter," I greet with a wave of my free hand. "I didn't know you were still here!"

Porter's been around for a while, long before me. Back then, he was one of my favorite parts of arriving in town. He used to have lollipops ready for me, and would always tell me to have the most joyous of days. He signified the start of the best summers of my life, but that was then. This is now.

Now I'm just kind of sad seeing him still behind that barrier.

The monkey acknowledges me with a practiced, customary grin, but then his eyes widen with a double take. "Oh, wow! Andie!? I had no idea you were coming back! Must be a special occasion, eek!"

I offer him a lop-sided grin as I readjust my grip on my stuff. "Dad didn't tell you I was arriving today?" Or did he not mention me at all?

The primate takes a pause and his shoulders fall. He scratches the back of his head and glances towards the entrance of the station. "Uh. Well. Not really."

"Of course he didn't," I sigh. Invites me to the town he ignored me for and has the audacity to not tell anyone I'm coming. Classic. Still, I offer the porter a smile. It's not like he's the one that dragged me out here for no reason. "It's nice to see you again. I hope he gave you a raise, especially after all this time."

He offers me an awkward grin and a sheepish tilt of his hat. "Unfortunately, I'm not permitted to discuss my salary with passengers. I get paid in the joy I bring to others by welcoming them to their destination!" He says that last part with the same enthusiasm as a retail worker on their last legs.

"Typical." I shake my head and glance at the entrance of the station. The early morning light is almost white and blinding, like I actually did die on the train and heaven's just on the other side of the gate. If anyone is on the other side, they can't see me, and I can't see them. "Anyway, I should get going. I'm sure dad has a magical summer planned for me, and I want to explore a bit. Did you see that they moved a bunch of the shops to some place called 'Main Street?' What was wrong with where they were!?"

He opens his mouth to say something else, stops, and then tilts his hat again. "Have the most joyous of days, Andie!"

"You too, bud!"

With that, I take the actual final step to my destination. My stomach toils with anticipation, and my teeth clench so hard from all my bracing that I may just break a tooth.

The light blinds me; nothing but white obscures my vision, and all I can do is blink it away since both my hands are occupied and I can't shield myself.

The sweet scent of apples carries on the breeze, accompanied with the fresh, natural musk of the babbling river. The soft chirping of birds, buzzing of insects, and rustling of leaves takes the stead of the relentless, ear-splitting noise of the city. It's familiar, and sweet nostalgia rolls over me in waves. Six years flew by, but standing here now, it's like no time passed at all.

When I finally get my eyesight back to normal, I'm met with four people - animals - I absolutely do not recognize. One of them, a cat about my height with cream fur and a cute brown bob, holds up a sign that says WELCOME HOME! A chicken with russet feathers and a bright samba dress stands next to her, her feathers cupping her lipstick-stained beak contemplatively. A tall bull the color of shadow and rubies for eyes stands on the very end, cocking his head to the side.

He has a welcoming committee but he can't show up himself? Of. Course.

No one says anything for an uncomfortably long time. There's an air of suspicion, disbelief. It's weird.

I make eye contact with everyone one by one, old Western movie style, but it's not enough for anyone to speak up.

I try to say the first word. "Um-"

"Y'know," the bull says. I didn't expect the deep southern baritone to come out of him. "When I was told we were gettin' a new buckaroo in town, this ain't quite what I expected."

Huh?

"I'm inclined to agree," the chicken chimes in. "I don't know . . . don't you think she's a little . . . young? I don't mind having fresh blood, of course, but there's such a thing as 'too fresh.'"

What?

"Ugh, don't be so mean!" the cat argues, still holding her peppy grin with the same effort she holds her sign. "It's about time we got someone here who wasn't literally, like, a million years old."

The final animal, a dog the color of sunshine about my height, waves her paw in a 'settle down' motion. Her hair tie, decorated with little bells, jingles when her head bobs. "Okay, everyone, just as we practiced! Here we go . . ." She turns to me with the biggest, most genuine grin. "From those of us here in Fernbay . . ."

"WELCOME!" they all shout in unison.

Alright, I'm confused. This is a better welcome than what Dad would have given me, but it's way too rehearsed. He'd never put this much effort into something.

"Um, thanks." I put my suitcase on the ground and prop it up against my leg. This is a lot to take in. "I appreciate the welcome, but, uh, do you guys know where-"

"MAYOR!" the dog cuts me off, leaping towards me and grabbing my wrist in her soft paw. Her big brown eyes glisten in the sunlight. "We're so happy you're finally here!"

. . .

"Did you just call me 'mayor?'"