Promises I Made Read Free Page A

room just after nine a.m. and headed to the train station. I held my breath as I slid my driver’s license under the ticket window, glad the birth date on Julie Montrose’s ID made me eighteen on the Washington State driver’s license. A moment later, the gray-haired ticket attendant passed back my change along with my ticket to LA.
    I avoided eye contact with the other passengers as I followed the signs to my platform, but I kept my head up. If you act guilty of something, people will remember you, think you are guilty of something. Another lesson from Cormac and Renee. I tried to maintain an expression of boredom as I climbed onto the train and looked for a seat, surprised to find that they all swiveled to face the windows. It wasn’t nearly as private as I’d expected, and I chose a seat at the end of an empty row, hoping it would stay that way. Then I put in my headphones as a deterrent against conversation.
    I kept my eyes on the concrete platform, half expecting someone official-looking to come running for the train at the last minute, holding a flyer with my face plastered all over it. The thought made my heart beat too fast and my skin prickle with nervousness. I’d never been afraid when traveling with Cormac and Renee, even as we changed names and hair colors, addresses and IDs. Somehow they always made me feel like we had every right to be wherever we were. Now I didn’t know if it had been a gift or a curse. The safety had been nice, but they had been wrong. We were thieves and liars. We didn’t have any rights at all.
    I watched a bearded guy on the platform clasp an older man’s hand, then draw him into an embrace. A moment later he bent to a slight woman with shining eyes and enveloped her in his arms. When they parted, he grabbed an overstuffed backpack and gave the couple a final wave before disappearing into one of the cars at the front of the train. I watched the couple walk away, arms around each other’s waists.
    A crackly voice came over the loudspeaker welcoming us aboard the train from Seattle to Los Angeles. I scanned the aisle while I listened to the emergency instructions and was relieved when no one took the seat next to me. I wasn’t up to polite conversation, and I didn’t want to spend the next thirty-five hours wondering if the person next to me would have a sudden epiphany and recognize my face.
    The loudspeaker grew silent, and a few minutes later the train shifted and began to move.
    The rocking motion was unsettling at first. The train was moving forward, but it also swayed slightly under my body. I had the odd sensation of being on a boat and in a car at the same time. Then we broke free of the station, and everything smoothed out as we picked up speed.
    We moved through the city and past Tacoma, the waters of the Puget Sound glimmering dark under the rising sun. It made me think of Playa Hermosa, of the Cove and the feel of Logan’s hand in mine, the way Selena smiled when she made some wry observation, like it was a secret just between us. I was homesick for all of it, which didn’t make any sense.We’d only lived there for three months. How was it possible that it felt like home?
    I grew drowsy, the rhythmic sway of the train lulling me into a pleasant fog, and I finally fell asleep with my backpack in my lap, the morning sun warming my body through the big east-facing windows. Every time the train stopped to let passengers on or off, I jerked awake, fear winding sharp and fast through my body. Had Cormac sent someone to find me after all? Had the police somehow subverted my use of a proxy on the internet? I had no idea what kind of resources were used to catch a criminal like me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was on borrowed time, that my freedom would be short-lived outside of Cormac’s protection.
    By the time we reached Portland, Oregon, I’d settled into a routine: waking up when we stopped, keeping