The Tracks by Sally Royer-Derr (ebook reader for pc and android .TXT) 📗

because she didn’t want to mess up her perfect hair. We ended up sipping lemonades inside the arcade. I listened to her go on and on about how she wanted a boyfriend. Apparently, she’d had a boyfriend a month ago. I remember her telling me this. A guy I recalled who used to pick his nose all the time in fourth grade. Now he was cute, according to Kara. But she couldn’t stand how he kissed. Like he was trying to touch her tonsils with his tongue. Wet and sloppy, too.

“I just started thinking about his tongue all day,” Kara said, twirling her hair. “Not in a good way. I mean, his tongue disgusted me. It made me feel nauseous every time I thought about kissing him. I knew it was time to break up with him.”

I nodded, registering that Nose Picker was also a lousy kisser. Poor guy. He didn’t have a lot going for him.

“I need an older boyfriend.” Kara flashed a bright smile. “A boy who has a driver’s license.”

Where was the girl who used to read mystery novels and was fascinated by papier-mâché? I tried to steer the conversation to other topics, but all she wanted to do was talk about boys. I ended up going on the roller coasters by myself.

I couldn’t wait to go home. It would be dark by that time, but I still might sneak out to see if Tommy was at the tracks. After all, he’d said he was there most nights. I told Kara about Tommy. She squealed and wanted to know all about this new boy. What did he look like? Where did he live? Was I in love with him?

I could tell her what he looked like. I didn’t know where he lived. I was not in love with him. I didn’t think of him like that. He was my friend. My best friend.

***

The moonlight cast eerie shadows as it shined on the scattered trees in the woods. My stomach clenched. I glanced back to the safety of our backyard. Maybe I should just go home and go to bed. But I wasn’t tired. Anyway, I needed to get over my fear of the dark. I was thirteen years old. Old enough not to be such a baby.

My fear of the dark started at age five. I’d been sleepwalking since I was four. My parents would find me wandering around bumping into things in the middle of the night. I never remembered anything when I woke up.

One night, I unlocked the deadbolt on the front door. Somehow, I made it outside. All I remember was waking up, curled in a tight ball on the dusty ground, in the middle of a cornfield. It was the cornfield behind our house. Late July, and the corn stood tall and green in the Pennsylvania farmland.

I didn’t know any of that, though. All I knew was that I was drenched with sweat, surrounded by tall, dark shadows, no idea where I was at.

I’d stood and ran between the stalks. Tripping over a rock, I’d landed on my knees. Warm blood had trickled down my right leg. I’d burst into tears and screamed. The darkness seemed to envelop me. Clouds covered the half-moon shining directly above me. The familiar sounds of our neighborhood now scared me. Tree frogs croaking, crickets chirping. The low hum of the interstate a few miles away. Normally comforting sounds that now echoed in my ears as the soundtrack in my dark prison. I’d got up again and tried to maneuver my way through the field. I couldn’t find my way out.

Dad had found me there, bloody and tear-stained. I felt like I’d spent hours wandering around. I remember him scooping me up into his strong arms. My body shook, and tears had continued to flood my face. Luckily, I’d never sleepwalked again. I never went outside in the dark by myself, either.

Until tonight. I turned away from our trailer and continued to walk into the woods. My flashlight bounced as I trailed through the rocky terrain. Now, at the beginning of August, heat was at an all-time high, even this late into the night.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and trickled down my neck. I reached the edge of the woods. A full moon beamed down on the tracks, creating a type of lighted stage on the steel parallels. The trees along the Millers’ fence cast large shadows on the grassy area beside the tracks. I scurried down the bank and climbed atop the fence. Turning off the flashlight, I waited in the darkness that shrouded me.

Chapter Nine

Tree frogs croaked the same song they sang every night. Their melody engulfed me while I kneaded the hem of my too-big T-shirt. Thankful the moon hung full and bright, I kept my gaze on it while I waited for Tommy to show up, certain he’d be there eventually. He held no knowledge of me coming out here. And I never came out to the tracks past dark. He knew that.

Call it intuition, but I knew he’d be here. And I was right.

His appearance seemed to happen in an instant, as it had occurred before. My gaze, intent on the brightly lit moon, drifted down on the train tracks, desolate only moments before, to reveal his presence. The thought which had run through my mind so many times prior to tonight flitted again. He seemed to know when I was here waiting for him. He seemed to know when I needed him.

“Hey,” I called. My voice echoed in the night’s stillness.

“Hey, yourself.” He walked over to me. His lips curved into the familiar easygoing smile I’d grown to expect.

“What are you doing out here in the dark?”

I hopped off the fence. “Mixing things up. I decided I’m too old to be afraid of the dark.”

“Cool.” He grabbed my