Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,16

the boy his wallet,” Buzz Cut says to Frankie. Apparently Frankie has respect for authority, because he hands it over, the same way he’d relinquished the book yesterday.

The cop looks over my shoulder when I open the soggy wallet to peer inside. “Looks like he cleaned you out. Come on, Frankie, you need to give this boy his money back.”

“No, it’s okay, he didn’t take my money.” I say. “I, uh, before I came into the city, my parents told me I should always keep my money in a front pocket.” Stupidly, I pat my front pocket to illustrate. “They said there are a lot of bad people in the city, so you have to be careful.” My palms are sweaty and I try not to think about Simon, afraid they’ll be able to magically read my mind. “So I’m okay for now, officers. Thank you for your assistance.” That last part might have been slightly over the top.

The lady cop looks me over, and I hold my breath.

“So where are you headed, Steven?”

“Home,” I say.

“And where’s that?”

I conjure a picture in my head of the destination board and spout off the first city on the sign. “Philadelphia.”

“Ahh, nice town. Eagles fan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her friendly manner vanishes, and she puts a hand on her hip, next to her gun.

“I need to see an ID please, Steven,” she says.

“Of course,” I say. Sweat is dripping down the back of my neck. I open the wallet again, pretend to search all the sections that might hold an ID. “It’s not here,” I say, going for a look of distress.

We all turn eyes on Frankie.

“Did you eat this boy’s ID, Frankie?” Buzz Cut asks.

Frankie grins and smiles, a little spit shimmering on his bottom lip.

Lady Cop looks me over, taking in my polite smile and my clean, supremely preppy ensemble. If the construction worker’s description is out, she’ll be looking for a dark-haired kid in a grimy blood-covered sweatshirt and torn jeans. Even so, I hold my breath until she says, “I’m sorry you had a run-in with Frankie here. When you get home, make sure you make some calls to replace your ID and anything else Frankie here might have ingested.”

“I will,” I promise.

“Okay, kid. Hope the rest of your day goes better.” Buzz Cut gives me a fatherly pat on the arm. “Have a good trip home, Steven.”

I buy my ticket and as soon as they announce the all-aboard for my trip, I double-time it down the escalator, push past slower people lined up to board the train, and immediately find a seat.

Up until the second the train pulls out of the station, I’m sure someone—Magpie with his gun or a cop with handcuffs—is going to come for me. But miraculously, no one does. No one seems to notice me at all.

5

Twenty minutes into the four-hour ride to Boston, I finally relax, going over my itinerary in my head over and over again to settle my twitchy brain. The train will arrive at South Station in Boston. The lady in the ticket booth told me I should take a cab to North Station. And from there, a commuter train to Concord. If all goes well, I should get in about 4 p.m. today.

As for what happens after that, I have no idea. I’m trying not to think about that part. For now, I’m safe and warm, and sitting in this really comfortable chair watching the scenery go by. Buildings and bridges and concrete switch over to houses and trees and rivers. A lot of the tall grass I see is still kind of brown, and the trees just have buds on them, so I figure it’s early spring sometime. A glance at the date stamped on my train ticket confirms it. Mid-April.

From the dining car at the middle of the train, I buy two hot dogs and take my time eating them. On the outside, I must look completely normal to people around me, who barely give me a second look. Just some kid eating hot dogs on the train to Boston.

But as soon as I’m alone with my thoughts, total panic is a heartbeat away. Is this really happening? Did I really almost kill a guy in an alley? What the hell kind of person am I? Simon’s face, shocked and bloody, swims into my consciousness and it’s a struggle to keep the hot dogs down. There is nothing “normal” about me. I have a knife injury that I have to