A/N: I know that my character sections have been a bit uneven so far, giving some characters more sections than others. It will even out a bit as I get deeper into the story, but some characters just have more action right now than others.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate your thoughts and I hope you like this chapter. Oh, and just for the record, I don't care what my spell check says; staticky is a word. It's in the gosh darn dictionary, for crying out loud.

Chapter Eight: The Road to Nowhere

Brian settled back into his seat and looked down at the book in his lap. He was still working on David Copperfield, but he'd packed nine other titles to keep him occupied while he was traveling and during his downtime in Shermer when he didn't have anything else to do. At the bottom of his backpack, he'd stored the required reading for his British Literature class, including Silas Marner, The Moonstone, The Picture of Dorian Gray, and Jude the Obscure. The required reading for his Twentieth Century American Literature class he'd nestled at the bottom of his duffel bag, which he'd stored in the overhead bin above his seat. That list included Sister Carrie, Babbitt, The Sun Also Rises, Go Tell It On The Mountain, and East of Eden. He was hoping that he would be able to finish at least half of them by the time he boarded the train to go back to Boston, though he didn't know exactly how much free time he would have between helping Claire and visiting his parents.

Brian glanced at his watch. 10:34 P.M., which really meant 9:34 P.M. since he would be passing into a different time zone before reaching Chicago. About five hours previous, he'd changed trains in Albany, New York, where he'd stopped for a sandwich and a Coke. His train wouldn't arrive in Chicago for another eleven hours, which meant that he had plenty of time to finish David Copperfield and hopefully start in on Silas Marner…if he could focus.

Brian thought back to what Nathaniel had mentioned that morning about sleeping on the train to make up for the sleep he'd lost the night before. He wished it was possible, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do it. He'd managed about thirty minutes of sleep at Rebecca's apartment before he left, but that was probably the best he was going to do for the next couple of days, especially since all he could do was worry about Shermer, Illinois, his reunion with the Breakfast Club, and seeing his parents again.

It was hard to decide which part was going to be the most difficult. He was looking forward to seeing the Breakfast Club, but he wasn't completely sure that they (with the obvious exception of Claire) were excited about seeing him. His parents, on the other hand, were looking forward to his arrival back home, but Brian wasn't positive that he wanted to see them. He knew that it was probably wrong to feel that way, especially since they were paying for most of his very expensive education, but he couldn't help the feeling of dread that washed over him every time he thought about seeing them again. Maybe it was because about 85 percent of the conversation revolved around what courses he was taking, what books he was reading, or what grad schools he was applying to. When he'd graduated from high school, he thought he was on his own and free to do whatever he wanted. He didn't realize that feeling of panic would follow him all the way to Cambridge and back.

Brian sighed and looked back down at the book in his hands. At this rate, he'd hardly be able to finish one book, much less ten.

The train from New York to Philadelphia wasn't very full, probably because it arrived in Philadelphia at 4:10 A.M., and who wanted to arrive somewhere that early in the morning? Allison didn't really care because she didn't need to have someone pick her up in Philadelphia since she was catching a connecting train to Chicago less than an hour later.

At about midnight, Allison pulled out the money she'd collected that morning on Fifth Avenue. Five wallets totaling $215.68. She didn't need that much, but the last wallet she took had almost $80.00 inside, which put her way over her target goal of $150.00. She'd left $70.00 on the kitchen counter for Cecilia to pay the rent, then shelled out $62.00 for the train ticket. That left her with $83.68 to spend on food and other necessities, whatever they might be.

Allison stuffed $30.00 into her shoe, $20.00 into her bra, $15.00 into her underwear next to her hip, and $15.00 into the pocket of her jeans. The remaining $3.68 she kept in her hand as she walked through the compartments towards the snack bar.

She purchased a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a candy bar, and a Coke and took them back to her seat. She put her change into the pocket of her denim jacket and sat down next to her duffel bag, then started unwrapping the sandwich from its plastic wrapper. As she ate, she looked out the window at the scenery rushing past her. They were out in the middle of nowhere at that point, with only a few bright city lights to illuminate the darkness. Allison, who was used to seeing nothing but buildings and people and billboards every time she looked out the window, thought the stillness was rather nice.

After a while, her thoughts wandered back to her parents. She hadn't told them she was coming and she didn't think she would when she got there either. There wasn't any need to tell them anyway since she didn't plan on visiting them at any point during the week. Her mother called every other Friday like clockwork, and Allison wasn't expecting another call for a week and a half, so more than likely her parents would never even know she was home.

She hadn't been back to Shermer in more than three years. The last time she went back was for Christmas during the winter of 1984. She'd arrived a week before Christmas and stayed through the 27th. Those eight days were some of the most uncomfortable of her entire life, even more uncomfortable than the days she'd spent living in that house as a child. Her family situation was very broken, and she'd known that going in, but she hadn't realized exactly how unfixable it was until she saw the distant look in her father's eyes when she arrived on the doorstep, or the false cheeriness in her mother's voice. When she got back to New York, she found that her apartment had been broken into, which she took it as a sign that she never should have left in the first place. After that, she decided not to return, even if her parents asked her to.

She needn't have worried about that. For every major holiday, she invented a different excuse for not coming home. Going on a trip with friends for Christmas, having a party in New York for her birthday, staying with a lonely friend for Thanksgiving. Her parents accepted her excuses without much protest, leaving her free to enjoy the holidays in her apartment or in bars or clubs, whichever she was in the mood for at the time. The loneliness she felt sitting in her apartment watching the Macy's Thanksgiving parade in her pajamas, while undeniable, was still less intense than the loneliness she felt sitting at her parents' table, where the only words she uttered were, "Can you please pass the salt?" Her mother still sent presents every year, along with a card with the exact same message written on every one of them. Love, Mom and Dad.

When she finished her sandwich, Allison stared out of the window for a long time, wondering exactly how many more miles she had to travel before she would arrive back in Shermer. She tried counting them, estimating the speed of the train and how much time was passing. After about ten minutes and thirteen miles, she gave up on counting and pulled out her portable CD player, a Christmas gift from her parents that had arrived in the mail on Christmas Eve the year before. She put in The Pixies and listened to music as she watched the trees fly by.

"And this one goes out to all you lovers out there. It's Whitney Houston with 'The Greatest Love of All'.

Andy sighed and hit the next button on his radio console, searching for a decent station. He was less than two hours out of Columbus and already his favorite stations were becoming more and more staticky as the minutes passed. He was able to pick up a couple of rock stations, but the rest of it was soft pop, jazz and classical. After running through them once more, he left it on a rock station that was taking a commercial break and settled back into his seat.

Andy looked back at the road, which was all but empty, save for a couple of eighteen wheelers. Everyone else, he presumed, was at home in their beds, snuggled under the covers to keep warm. He would have given anything to warm right then, anything at all. The heater in his truck wasn't working, and he didn't know why. He had on a padded jacket, a ski cap, and a pair of mittens, but his nose was already running, his lips were chapped, and his cheeks were red with cold. He had a thermos of coffee next to him in the cup holder, but it wasn't very hot or fresh anymore.

After a couple of minutes, the deejay came back on the air and started playing Bruce Springsteen's Thunder Road. Andy left it on and looked down at the speedometer, which told him that he was traveling five miles under the speed limit. He didn't speed up. Despite the cold, he didn't see the point in getting back to Shermer any sooner than he had to.

For the first time since he'd gotten the initial call from Brian, Andy's thoughts turned to Allison. He hadn't asked Brian if she was coming and Brian hadn't volunteered the information. He wondered what she looked like, if she'd changed, if she was still living in New York, if she was dating anyone. He knew that he probably shouldn't care about stuff like that anymore, and it surprised him a little bit that he did since he hadn't thought about Allison all that often in the past few years. After they broke up in the winter of 1984, they lost touch completely, and he hadn't spoken with her since. He missed her a little bit sometimes, but mostly he just wondered what she was doing, where she was, who she had become. He couldn't imagine her looking or acting any different than she did the last time he saw her, but he knew that she probably did since everyone changed as the years went on. He had.

Andy exhaled, his warm breath visible in the freezing air. Part of him wanted to see Allison again, if only to satisfy his curiosity and see what she was like. The other part of him hoped that she wouldn't show. It wasn't discomfort he was worried about, though he knew there would be plenty of that. He wasn't even worried about attraction because he knew that he was too old and too different to feel that way about her again. So, why was he so worried about -- no, afraid of -- seeing her? With the others he knew he could grit his teeth and bear it…but Allison? She knew him too well. She saw right through him, and if there was anything he didn't want right then, it was for someone to look past the angry eyes and the pasted smiles and see the wreck he'd made of himself deep down inside.

Andy turned off the radio and leaned back in his seat, staring through his cracked windshield out at the dark, empty road. Up ahead on the right were two signs, one advertising a 24-hour truck stop with hot coffee and hot food. The other was a mile marker, which told him that he had 236 miles between him and Chicago. He watched them pass by, then turned on his blinker and took the next exit leading to the truck stop.

A/N: Just for the record, I know that Brian carrying ten books with him for a five day trip may seem a bit extreme, but I do that every time I go anywhere, especially if I'll have lots of time on my hands. I figured that if I was nerdy enough to do it, then Brian probably would be, too, especially if he was worried about his grades (which, I'll admit, I'm not).

Thanks for reading. Please review!